The Cost of Love
by Sweet Mercy
Summary: Harry’s engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH
1. Reacquainted

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash and non-slash, probably OOC, swearing, and affairs

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

**SPOILERS FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS**

**Disclaimer/Spoilers:** This is very much post-book 7 with one major exception (Snape). The information referring to what the characters went on to do/work as/marry is taken from J.'s post-DH interview so none of those ideas are mine either, although I have added and changed a few things.

* * *

**Chapter One: Reacquainted **

Harry shivered in the cold and pulled his robe tight around him as he stepped out onto the rain washed street. The grey clouds overhead rumbled menacingly and the bright lanterns swung on their hooks as a strong wind rolled down the crooked lane. Witches and wizards hurried along, some huddling under umbrellas, others pulling out their wands to perform charms to keep themselves dry. With a sigh that sounded more like a groan, Harry rearranged the box under his arm and headed for the pub, keeping his prey in sight.

The walk felt a lot longer than it normally would have done, but given that he was ducking his head, trying hard not to be spotted, it didn't come as a surprise – people had a habit of stopping him and making conversation whenever they saw him and, even though Harry knew they meant well, he had more important things to do this evening; besides, he was already running late as it was.

He cursed as he stepped in a puddle, water soaking him to the ankles, but still he continued down the street, eyes fixed firmly on the figure ahead of him. A flash of light lit up the sky, quickly followed by another low rumble of thunder and Harry sped up his pace, trying desperately to stay under the shop canopies, out of the rain and out of sight.

He was just passing _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_ when another flash rent the sky. Ahead of him, the figure came to a halt. It stood still in the middle of the street and for the briefest of moments Harry thought he'd been spotted. The figure, however, merely ducked into the bookshop and disappeared from sight.

Moaning in frustration, Harry hurried for cover behind a large crate of 'Canary Creams' to wait for the reappearance of the man he'd been following. A couple of witches gave him funny looks as they passed, but he kept his head down, trying to hide his face in the dark shadows.

Gripping the large box under his arm tightly, Harry checked his watch. 7:40pm. He was supposed to have been home ten minutes ago to give himself enough time to get ready, but the party didn't start until 8. He knew he was pushing it but…if he was right…if it was indeed _him_…

He licked his lips and, slowly, carefully, he peaked out from behind the crate, just in time to see the door to _Flourish and Blotts_ opening. Out stepped the dark figure - long black robes, black hair…pale skin that glowed in the light from the candle-lit lanterns…and that nose – he'd recognise that nose anywhere. It _was_ him.

But before Harry could even think what to do, the man with the hooked nose had set off down the street again. Damning his own curiosity, Harry followed.

He kept a fair distance away, not wanting to alert the other man to his presence. In his head he was trying to form all the questions he wanted to ask, but he found himself transfixed by those billowing robes, the likes of which he hadn't seen in almost five years. He remembered those long strides all too well and he slowed his own down as the man came to a stop at the wall leading to _The Leaky Cauldron_.

Harry watched from the shadows as the man pulled out his wand and tapped the correct brick. The wall parted to let him through and he passed without a glance and entered the building beyond. As soon as Harry was sure the door on the other side had closed, he ran forwards and repeated the actions.

Slowly, he pushed open the door and slid into the dimly lit room.

The dusty old pub was the same as ever, with its creaky wooden furniture and lively customers. Over in one corner of the room were a group of young men, arguing loudly over the result of the latest Qudditch match, and opposite them were a few old, wrinkled women playing poker. No one seemed to notice that Harry Potter had just stepped into their midst and that suited Harry just fine. He walked further into the room and movement caught his eye – a dark robe disappearing up the staircase.

He glanced around and headed for the bar.

"Hello, Tom," he said politely, wiping his wet hair out of his face.

"Good evening, ," the old barman smiled toothlessly. "What can I do for you?"

"That man that just came in," said Harry, nodding towards the stairs, "What room is he staying in?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that Mr. Potter," he said, with a shake of his head. "I have to respect their privacy, you see. Unless, of course," he added, eyeing Harry's blue robes, "it's Ministry business."

Harry blinked, and decided to cease the opportunity.

"It is," he said, standing up straight.

"Well, in that case…" Tom looked around the noisy bar before leaning towards Harry. "Room three," he told him. "But keep it clean, yeah? If you have to arrest him do it somewhere else. Bad for business, you see."

"Don't worry Tom," said Harry, smiling at him, "I just need some information from him. Nothing nasty, I assure you."

With a last smile at the barkeeper, Harry turned and headed off in the direction of the stairs. He climbed them, feeling his heart pounding with each step he took. He still didn't understand why he was doing this…but something inside him told him that it was the right thing to do…

He reached the top of the stairs and headed along the empty hallway, listening to the laughter and chatter floating up from the pub below. The wind howled angrily, shaking the windows in their frames and Harry had to suppress a shudder.

All too soon, he found room number three.

He tried to remember the questions he had wanted to ask but he suddenly found there were none. His mind had gone completely blank and for a long moment all he could do was stare at the closed door.

He'd felt compelled to follow…he'd seen the man passing through the street and had just been so curious…But why? What could he possibly gain from this?

The brass number '3' fixed on the door seemed to be taunting him. Harry scowled at it and raised an arm.

A deep breath, and then…

He knocked.

It was exactly two seconds before the door was swung open. Harry started in surprise but managed to keep his composure as he took in the sight before him.

Severus Snape. Tall, dark, and brooding. He looked the same as ever, with his black robes and dark eyes. His long, stringy hair fell about his pale face and his top lip curled as he looked at Harry.

He didn't even look surprised.

"Well?" he said, as Harry stood there in silence. "Are you after something?"

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat.

"I…you…I didn't…"

Snape snorted. "As eloquent as ever. Come on Potter; I haven't got all night."

"You…what are…I was…"

Snape rolled his eyes with a suffering sigh. "I can see this is going to take some time. Well, you might as well come in. I refuse to have this little exchange of words in the hallway."

Feeling incredibly stupid, Harry entered the room. It was nothing fancy, made up of nothing more than a bed, chest of drawers, and sink.

Behind him, Snape closed the door.

"So," he said, sitting down on the edge of the rickety bed, "out with it Potter. What have I done to earn myself a stalker?"

Harry eyebrows shot up.

"You knew I was following you?" he asked, finally getting a hold of his voice.

Snape let out a grunt of amusement.

"Of course I knew. I knew you were there the moment you stepped out of the shop. I recognised your magic immediately. And you call yourself an Auror," he finished, smirking at Harry and shaking his head.

Once again, Harry found himself speechless. Here he was, in this cheap little room in _The Leaky Cauldron_, having a conversation with Snape as if it were an everyday occurrence. In three more months it would have been five years exactly since they'd last seen each other, and yet Snape was sat here, not even batting an eyelid!

Memories of the war flashed through his mind and he shook his head.

"The last time I saw you, you were in a hospital bed," he said to Snape, staring down at him. "The next morning you just…_disappeared_. Just got up and left! Why? Where have you been all these years? Why have you never gotten in touch with people? Minerva was worried sick!"

Snape held Harry's eyes for a few moments before looking away and sighing. He ran his hands over his pale face before looking back up again.

"Potter," he said, and he sounded quite tired all of a sudden, "Why do you ask? What makes you think I would answer any questions you have for me? Do you think yourself special because you saved the world? Do you think you should be obeyed?"

Harry stared at him, very much torn between disbelief and amusement. Even after all this time, the man still wanted to fight with him.

"I ask because I was worried," he told him earnestly. "You suffered a terrible injury, there was so much poison in your blood…you were lucky Madam Pomfrey was able to save you. Why run away? Everyone knew the truth, I made sure of it. They were all praising you for taking such a risk."

But Snape was shaking his head, amused, once more, at Harry's words.

"Do you think I want praise?" he said. "Do you think I want to be praised for the things I have done?"

"It's better than being called a murderer," Harry replied. "You had nothing to fear, so why run?"

"Why do you think?" he said calmly. "Why does anyone run? To get away."

"To get away from what?" Harry asked, confused.

"Everything," Snape said with a shrug. "I knew I wasn't a wanted man. But it was over. There was no need for me to stay any longer. I wanted to put it all behind me."

"And you couldn't have informed someone first?" Harry asked sceptically.

"I had my reasons, Potter," he told him impatiently. "I haven't shut myself away from society if that's what you're thinking. We just haven't been unlucky enough to bump into one another. Until now."

"So where have you been then?" Harry pressed on, keen for some answers now that they were talking.

"Why would I possibly tell you that?" said Snape.

"Well, do people know you're alright? Minerva and everyone?"

Severus sighed. "Yes," he said.

"Why wasn't I ever informed?" he demanded – after all the trouble Harry had gone to to clear the man's name, surely someone would have thought to let him know that he was still alive and well!

"The world does not revolve around you, Potter," said Snape with a nasty sneer. "Not anymore at least. Now, are we done here?"

"What?"

Snape stood up and gripped his sleeve tightly. Harry staggered.

"You have invaded my privacy long enough," he said, dragging Harry towards the door. "I would very much appreciate it if you would leave."

"But – but I haven't finished talking to you," he stammered, trying not to trip over his own feet.

"How unfortunate for you then," Snape said dryly. He gave Harry one final push and he stumbled into the hall.

"What – ?"

"Give my regards to all your little friends," he said. "It was lovely to see you again." And with that, the door closed in Harry's face.

Harry stood for a moment, not entirely sure what had just happened. He went over his words in his head, trying to see if he had said something to offend his ex-professor, but there was nothing. The man was just simply rude.

Straightening his robes, Harry huffed and made his way back downstairs.

* * *

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" Ginny snapped at him the moment he appeared in the living room. "God, you're a mess! We had to be there five minutes ago! Give me that," she said, snatching the box from his hands. "God, we're going to be so late. Hurry up and get changed!"

Harry let out the breath he had been holding and collapsed onto the sofa. He didn't see why she was so angry – it had been _her_ fault he had been in Diagon Alley anyway. She'd ordered some new robes for the party and since they had been so expensive they had required a signature upon collection. If she had just made do with the dozens of robes she already owned than there would have been no need to go to Diagon Alley and he wouldn't have run into Snape! Simple really.

With a heavy sigh, Harry began to take off his shoes, lost in memories of years passed. A lot had changed since he'd left Hogwarts behind and, even though there were dark arts-obsessed crazy people still running about the place, things were a hell of a lot calmer.

The first year following the end of the war had been the most difficult. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister for Magic, had had more than his hands full in the aftermath, chasing up runaway Death Eaters, weeding out traitors, and trying desperately to restore peace within the wizarding community. Eventually, with the help of the remaining Order members, Kingsley had turned things around. Working at the Ministry was now something people looked forward to.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had all been offered jobs as Aurors. Hermione had declined and the following September she had returned to Hogwarts to finish her education, joining Ginny and Luna in the year below. Surprisingly, Neville had opted to do the same and had graduated with an 'O' in Herbology a year later.

Ron had also turned down the offer in favour of helping out his brother George with _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_. With Fred gone, the remaining twin had been finding it difficult and Ron's heart had been with his family. However, he had eventually taken Kingsley up on his offer the following summer and now enjoyed a comfortable and exciting job as an Auror.

Harry had accepted straight away.

Hermione, after receiving straight 'O's in her N.E.W.T's, now worked at the Ministry, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, where she was happily throwing all her efforts into helping magical beasts and beings gain more rights – at current she was working on trying to get Centaurs and Merpeople seats in the Wizengamot. Ginny's career had also taken off pretty quickly after leaving Hogwarts and she now enjoyed the position of seeker on the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team.

Luna and Neville, meanwhile, had flown off to explore the world. Neville had quickly returned home though and was now working as a Herbologist for St. Mungo's Hospital, although he hoped one day to become a teacher when it came time for Professor Sprout to retire. Luna, in a move that was both fitting and bizarre, was a Wizarding Naturalist and had already written her own book. Hermione was still pretending she wasn't jealous.

In other news, Fleur had given birth to the first Weasley grandchild – a beautiful, blonde girl by the name of Victorie, named so for the ending of the war.

Ron and Hermione were, of course, dating and had been since the end of the war. After attending the many funerals of lost loved ones, they had flown out to Australia to find Hermione's parents and restore their memories. They had been successful – Mr. and Mrs. Granger now lived in Swanage, and Ron and Hermione had recently moved to a small house in Ottery St. Catchpole, the village near The Burrow.

Also living nearby were Andromeda Tonks and little Teddy Lupin. After the death of her husband (and then her daughter and son-in-law), Andromeda had sold her place and had moved to a lovely cottage that was just on the outskirts of Devon. Harry stopped by once a week to pay them both a visit and together he and Andromeda tried to answer any questions Ted had for them about his parents. Being the curious little toddler that he was, he was never short of things to ask.

Also keeping in touch was Aberforth Dumbledore who, rumour had it, was trying – unsuccessfully – to 'woo' Minerva McGonagall. After the war, Professor McGonagall had taken up her rightful place as Headmistress of Hogwarts and was doing a grand job of things.

The curse on the Defence Against the Dark Arts job had finally been broken and a Professor Nicholas Carter had succeeded in holding the position for three years before being struck down with a deadly case of dragon pox. People had waved it off as a funny coincidence and now the teaching post was being filled by a charming young woman named Isabelle Howard.

Professor Slughorn was still Head of Slytherin and Potions Professor of Hogwarts – given that he'd originally agreed to only come back temporarily, the man was doing remarkably well.

Percy Weasley, proudly reinstated junior assistant to the Minister, had recently married – his wife, Audrey, was expecting their first child any day now.

Charlie, much to his mother's dismay, hadn't settled down and had no intentions to do so. He was far more content with his job and the travelling opportunities it offered him – although he had, at one point, had a fling with Luna Lovegood when they'd bumped into each other in Sweden. Ron was still recovering from the shock whilst Luna was happily dating a man named Rolf Scamander.

George was single and seemed to like it that way. The death of his twin brother had naturally had a devastating effect on him and for a while everyone had been worried – at one point, the poor guy hadn't even been able to face looking in a mirror. But as the years had gone by he'd slowly started to turn into his mischievous self again and was now once more up to his old tricks.

And then there was Harry. Recently promoted to Head of the Auror Department, he was more famous than ever and had now been sharing a lovely townhouse in London with Ginny Weasley for two years.

Life was good, he thought as he stood up from the sofa and headed for the bedroom. It had its ups and downs like everything else, but overall he was enjoying things immensely. He had loyal friends and a comfortable home and his work was far from boring. And Ginny – Ginny, his high school sweetheart; Ginny, the love of his life.

And so it was in high spirits that Harry headed off for The Burrow.

After all, it wasn't everyday you celebrated your own engagement.

* * *

**A/N:** OK, so I probably shouldn't have posted this until I had my other fic finished, seeing as how I have trouble keeping up with quick updates as it is! But I couldn't resist!

Please review and tell me what you think! xx


	2. Second Meetings

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Two: Second Meetings**

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the – "

Harry stepped out of the lift and into the corridor before the soft, female voice could finish its announcement. Wondering idly, as he always did, about whom that voice actually belonged to, he made his way down the busy, narrow hallway, nodding at the people who greeted him and dodging the many paper aeroplane memo's that swooped passed his head.

The corridor was much different to how it had been the very first time he'd walked down it with Arthur Weasley. Back then it had been a very official-looking place with bare walls and polished doors. Now, the walls were full of large framed pictures of the many people that made up the Law Enforcement Department. It had been Kingsley's idea – an attempt to make the place seem more homely; it was the same on all the floors and everyone was pictured; from the Minister and Heads of Departments, to the witches and wizards who served in the canteen.

Harry smiled as he neared the newest photo of the scarlet-clad Auror's. There he stood, in the middle of the cheerful looking group, dressed smartly in his Head of Office blue robes; he still got to wear the red whilst out on missions, but at the Ministry it had to be blue – something to do with authority. He much preferred wearing the red though – it reminded him of Gryffindor Quidditch.

He averted his eyes and continued down the corridor, striking up a brisk pace. He passed through the double doors and had _just_ managed to take three steps (the record was seven) into the large room when an excitable, blonde-haired man appeared at his side.

"Morning Jeremy," he said automatically, trying hard to keep the sigh out of his voice.

"Good morning, sir!" his assistant greeted him brightly. "Here's your morning coffee, sir." He handed him the steaming cup. "Sir, we've just had word of a robbery going down on Oxford Street. The reports suggest that it's the same man responsible for the other muggle burglaries. The Auror's are – "

"No," Harry cut across, "send the Hit Wizards. I want the Auror's working on the Creswell murder case. Have we got any new leads?"

"Err…" Jeremy ruffled through the parchment on his clipboard. "Yes," he said. "A muggle woman claims to have overheard an exchange between Davidson and McCulloch. Ron Weasley's interrogating her as we speak."

"Good," he said. "Bring me that transcript when he's finished. Do _not_ obliviate her until we're sure we have everything we need – the last thing we need is another one of _those_ incidents. Where do we stand on the Bately case?"

"Oh, erm…" Jeremy consulted his notes again. "Interviews have been done and the trial date has been set. I should have the file on your desk by the end of the day. Sir, are you alright?"

Harry, who had been just about to open his office door, looked up.

"What?"

"Are you alright?" he repeated. "You look a little…" he trailed off, bobbing his head from side to side as if to emphasise something.

Harry was at a loss. "A little _what_, Mr. Jenkson?"

Jeremy was quiet for a moment, as if casting around for the right word to use. "Tired," he finally decided on.

Harry frowned and decided his assistant was being polite – he looked more than a little tired; he was very well aware of the dark circles beneath his eyes and the paleness of his skin.

"I'm fine," he said with a small smile and he entered his office. "Don't forget – I want that file by the end of the day."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I won't let you down."

With one last smile at his assistant, Harry shut the door. All the noise from the other room instantly disappeared.

Monday mornings. Oh, how he hated them.

For a few moments, he just stood with his back against the door, looking over at the window opposite him. From here, all he could see was blue sky.

Shortly after being promoted, Harry had asked the people down in Magical Maintenance very nicely if they could possibly charm the view from his office to be something other than the standard busy London street – being Head Auror was a chaotic job and the last thing he wanted was to look out at more chaos from his office window. Emily Crawshaw, a sweet old lady, had been more than happy to help and had given him a beautiful, calming view of sand and sea.

Harry looked down at the steaming cup of coffee in his hand and set it on the desk. He then pulled out his wand and transfigured a paperweight into a mirror, trying to think of a spell to make himself look more presentable.

There was a very simple explanation for his lack of sleep and that was Ginny, but not for the reasons one would think. As a Quidditch star Ginny did a lot of travelling, especially when there was a tournament coming up. She was currently in Spain with the rest of her team, competing for a place in the European Championships. Being in a different country meant that she needed special permission to come through the floo or use portkeys and so conversation with her over the last few days had been very limited.

At first, Harry had thought that he could handle her absences – after all, he'd grown up practically alone – but he was ashamed to admit that he wasn't finding it any easier; he'd grown so accustomed to sharing his life with her, and a cold bed at night made him feel even worse. He had his friends to keep him company of course, but it just wasn't the same. There was something about going home to an empty house that really struck a painful cord.

Also weighing heavily on his mind was Severus Snape, something which he was even more ashamed to admit. Ever since he'd confronted the man a week ago in _The Leaky Cauldron_, his mind had been racing with all the unanswered questions he still wanted to ask. He knew the healthy thing to do was to just forget about it and move on – Snape had seemed perfectly fine so there was no need to worry or be suspicious – but there was just something about this whole thing that had Harry feeling rather like a dog with a bone. He may not have liked his professor back at school, but seeing him again had brought back so many memories. A large piece of his past had walked into his life and he was very reluctant to let it go.

But then…it was just _Snape_. Snape wasn't that important.

Laughing bitterly at the direction his thoughts had taken, he transfigured the mirror back into its original form and walked round his desk. He sat down just as there was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he called, pulling his coffee cup towards him.

Jeremy entered the room.

"Sir, Mr. Weasley's finished questioning the muggle woman. Here's that transcript you wanted."

"Thank you, Jeremy," he said, reaching out for the small file.

After the door had closed, Harry sighed and kicked his feet up onto the desk, leaning back in his chair. He sipped his coffee and opened the file.

The Creswell murder case was a nasty one with very few leads. A few months ago a limbless, headless body had been found in a derelict house in Scarborough. Testing had confirmed that the victim had been killed with _Avada Kedavra_. During the days that had followed they had managed to track down the remaining limbs by magic, which had been scattered in various parts of Britain. For weeks, the Auror's had kept tabs on anyone and everyone who had reason and opportunity do to Mr. Creswell harm. After months of hard work, they had finally managed to narrow their investigation down to just two main suspects. And then they'd hit a dead end. It was only recently that the Minister had allowed them to go public with the case in the muggle world.

Harry finished reading the transcript and dropped it onto his desk. Not very much, but it was something. The conversation the woman had overheard had included the mention of where Creswell's head had been found. Davidson and McCulloch were both nasty criminals but the Ministry had never been able to pin anything on them other than petty crimes.

With a heavy sigh, Harry swung his legs off the desk and headed out of his office. He was too tired to concentrate on anything new at the moment and so decided the best thing for him to do was to go over the evidence.

He made his away across the busy, cubicle-laden room to where an old wizard sat at a desk. He smiled crookedly at Harry and scribbled his name down on a long scroll. The door behind him clicked open and Harry entered a small room that had bright white walls, ceiling, and floor. A single candle burnt with an almost artificial light in the corner, illuminating the few things in the room – a square glass window that was set in the centre of the left wall, a small metal panel, a silver slot, and a metal tray.

Harry approached the window and looked through it. Unlike the other windows in the building that were charmed to show a view of the outside world, this one revealed a large black room which seemed to be lit with multiple spotlights. Thousands upon thousands of files floated slowly about the room in an orderly fashion, as if dangling from an invisible conveyor belt. The ceiling of the room was just visible, but the floor, which was all the way down on level 10 of the Ministry, was lost in blackness from this height.

This was the File Room and could be accessed from all departments; if Harry were to press his head against the glass he would just be able to make out the light coming from all the other windows down below.

He placed his hand on the cold, metal panel and spoke clearly.

"Derek Creswell."

The effect was instantaneous. Behind the glass, all the files scattered as if a hurricane had just swept through the room. Pieces of parchment flew at the glass before disappearing into the darkness below, whilst files furiously shuffled through themselves, blowing round and round, caught up in a non-existent wind.

It lasted for no longer than ten seconds and when a file appeared in the metal tray, the numerous files in the dark room zoomed back into place, back into order, and resumed their slow motion as if nothing had happened.

Harry picked up the folder and turned to leave when an idea suddenly bounded into his head. He could have kicked himself. He could have done more than that; he could have cursed his ears off!

In the four years and nine months that Severus Snape had been missing, not _once_ had it occurred to Harry to look the man up in the Ministry files! The answers had been here all along!

But, he thought as he turned back to the window, his curiosity hadn't really been _this_ intense until most recently. If truth be told, the professor hadn't even been in his thoughts until he'd seen him in Diagon Alley. Not much anyway.

_It still took you a week though_, a voice cackled at him. He chose to ignore it.

"Severus Snape," he said, placing his hand on the metal panel, and he watched again as the files scattered and flew back into place.

Harry picked up the folder and headed back to his office.

Once he was sitting comfortably, he opened the file on Snape. A photograph of the professor scowled up at him and he quickly flicked to the next page. Name, birthday, education, jobs, criminal record…it was all here. Quite a lot of the pages were taken up with information on his Death Eater days. In fact, as Harry flicked through the file, he felt he was learning more about Snape than he ever had at Hogwarts. The only thing missing was…

"No known address?" Harry read with a frown. "Well, that can't be right."

He ruffled through the file again, more slowly this time, trying to look for all the things he'd missed. N.E.W.T results, Gringotts vault number…oh! Here was something; Dumbledore had left him a house in his will!

Feeling rather proud of himself, Harry grabbed a quill and a blank piece of parchment to jot down the address – as this was the only address written in the file it had to be worth a look. He glanced back at the file ready to copy it down and his eyes widened.

* * *

Harry stood in the village square of Godric's Hollow, shielding his eyes against the sun and staring up at the stone statue of his parents. Their presence wasn't as strong here as it was in the graveyard but he imagined he could still sense them. He knew it wasn't possible – after all, his parents weren't ghosts and it was just a statue – but it was something Harry liked to believe and it made him feel welcome.

Of all the places for the previous Head of Slytherin to live, Godric's Hollow wouldn't have even entered Harry's mind. It went against everything Harry knew about him. He was so dark and miserable – surely he'd stand out like a…well, like a snake amongst the lions really. But then again, Harry was one of those lions and he stood out like a sore thumb.

Ever since the war had ended, Harry had become an annual visitor to this village; every Halloween he would make his way to the graveyard with some flowers to pay his respects to Lily and James Potter on the anniversary of their death. The residents were always the same – as soon as they noticed him they would stop and stare and whisper to their friends. No one ever approached him though; they knew why he was there and always gave him the privacy he wanted.

Today was the same. The only difference was it wasn't Halloween – it was the end of February and Harry Potter hadn't brought flowers to place on a grave.

He looked away from the stone faces of his parents and glanced about the village square. A couple people had already spotted him and were walking by slowing, watching him out of the corners of their eyes. When one of them ducked into a shop, reappearing a few seconds later with two old ladies in tow, Harry decided he'd stood still for long enough. He smiled politely at the small gathering of people and headed down a small lane.

Anywhere else and the constant attention would have annoyed him to no end. When it happened in Godric's Hollow, however, he found it rather amusing. It was such a small village – one of those close communities where everyone knew everyone else's business. It was a quirky quality and one of the reasons why it was so hard to believe that Severus Snape might actually live here.

He continued walking down the lane, suppressing chills as he passed the house that had once belonged to Bathilda Bagshot. Just before he reached the destroyed Potter house, he turned left down a gravel road.

As he walked, he took the time to admire all the large cottages on either side of him; some were stone, some were thatched, but all of them boasted neat gardens and beautiful flowerbeds.

All of them except the one on the end.

White walled and thatched roofed, it stood basking in the sunlight. The grass was overgrown and most of the flowers looked wild. Ivy crept up the sides of the house and bushes obscured most of the small fence, which desperately needed a new coat of paint. But despite all this, there were definite signs of life. For one, the windows were clean and Harry could see a bookcase through them.

Before he could even think or let his nerves get the better of him, he opened the worn gate and made his way up the uneven path towards the door. He knocked three times and stood back, waiting.

The door opened.

"Bet you're surprise to see me this time, right?" Harry grinned.

Snape stood in the entrance, dressed in trousers and shirt and wearing a look of disbelief on his face. It only took a couple of seconds however and his face turned into a scowl as he regarded Harry on the doorstep.

"What the hell are you doing here Potter?" he demanded, looking at him in disgust.

"I wanted to talk to you," he told him politely. "We never did finish our conversation."

Snape clenched his teeth. "I do not remember giving you my address," he said tightly. "Nor do I remember giving you any hint that I wanted to continue our conversation."

Harry snorted. "You didn't give _anyone_ your address," he said to him. "You know, you're not even listed as living here? You're just listed as having possession of it."

Snape's eyes sparkled as he glared at him and stood tall.

"And how would you know that?" he asked in a quiet fury.

"I looked you up at the Ministry," he told him with a shrug.

"That is a blatant misuse of power and I shall be reporting you."

"Report me all you like, Snape," Harry said with a smile. "So…can I come in?"

"No."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Please?" he added.

"Potter, I do not want you here, now go away!"

"So you're just going to turn me away after I went through all this trouble of coming here?"

"That's right," Snape said, uncaring. "Good day, Mr. Potter."

"But I – " Harry quickly reached out a hand to stop the door closing. "Snape, please…"

"Potter, remove your hand at once. I won't hesitate to trap it in the door, I assure you."

Harry didn't doubt that. But he wasn't about to falter now, not when he was so close.

The door began to shut again and thought fast.

"Dumbledore!" he shouted out.

The door swung open again.

"What?" Snape demanded, looking down at him as if he were crazy. Harry didn't mind; he _felt_ crazy.

"I…erm…" He wet his lips. "Dumbledore. He lived here, didn't he?"

"So?" Snape said, frowning.

"So…I want to talk about him. With you. Inside?"

Snape seemed to consider him for a moment and Harry gulped as those dark eyes bore into his. He suddenly felt young and naive but he stared back, determined not to show weakness.

Finally, after an agonising few seconds, Snape gave in with a sigh. He stood back to let Harry through and followed him into the room.

The interior was such a huge contrast to the eyesore that was outside; everything was clean and tidy and stored away in its place.

A comfy-looking black sofa sat with its back against the wall, opposite a stone fireplace. A matching black armchair was sat at an angle near the back window, through which Harry could see a well-kept garden.

Behind him, over by the door, was a polished staircase that led to the upstairs landing, which overlooked the living room like a balcony. From where Harry stood, he could only see two doors, but as the cottage was rather big he assumed there were more.

Most of the furniture seemed to be made of oak; a small table in the middle of the room, a couple of cabinets, the bookcase which Harry had spotted from outside, and another low table on which a large television sat. There was no carpet; in fact, the dark, wooden floorboards seemed to be the only traditional part of the room.

"Dumbledore lived here?" he asked stupidly, taking in his surroundings.

"Once," said Snape, "many years ago. He lived at Hogwarts for most of his life, but he still owned the house, sentimental fool that he was; didn't want to sell it, but didn't want to step foot in it again either."

"It's rather modern, isn't it?" Harry noted.

"I have redecorated since. I wasn't going to live amongst squashy armchairs and fluffy cushions and knitted rugs."

That reminded Harry of one of his questions. He turned to look at Snape with a puzzled expression.

"Why _do_ you live in Godric's Hollow anyway?" he asked. "I wouldn't have thought it was your thing."

"Really?" A smirk appeared on Snape's face. "And just what is my 'thing' Mr. Potter?"

"I dunno," Harry muttered with a shrug. "Dungeons and darkness and stuff."

"Oh, of course," Snape said smoothly, "Because all of us Slytherins just _love_ dungeons and darkness. We can't get enough of it."

"Well, that's where you lived at Hogwarts!" Harry argued. "If you didn't like it then why did you live there?"

Snape laughed and shook his head.

"I'm amazed at what passes for an Auror these days."

"There's no need to insult me, Snape," Harry snapped.

"Think, Potter," he said. "I was the potions professor and Head of Slytherin. The potions classroom was in the dungeons, as was the Slytherin common room. I needed to be where my students could find me."

That made sense.

"Oh," Harry said.

Snape snorted.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked, coming fully into the room.

Harry looked at him in surprise. "You're offering me a drink? I didn't know you were polite."

Snape's eyes gleamed. "I could always put poison in it," he said.

Harry gulped. "In that case, I'm fine. I'll just, erm…sit."

He sat down on the sofa and Snape seated himself in the armchair.

Harry nervously let his eyes scan the rest of the room. For some reason he felt like a tourist. He knew it was silly but he couldn't help it – this had been _Dumbledore's_ house; the house he'd invited Grindelwald into and the house where his poor sister had been killed. The expression _'if the walls could talk'_ sprung to mind. There was just so much history here.

And speaking of Dumbledore…

Something above the fireplace caught his eye and he turned. There, hanging on the wall, was a portrait of the Dumbledore family. All four occupants lay snoozing against each other, looking so very peaceful in sleep; the only person missing was Aberforth but as he was still alive, Harry figured it would probably be a long time before he appeared.

"That painting," said Harry, nodding towards it, "Is it like the ones in the Head's office at Hogwarts, where they remember everything? Or is it like the other ones that only know what's happened since they've been a portrait?"

Snape's expression was unreadable as he looked over at the painting.

"It's like the ones in the Headmistress's office," he told him. "That's how Minerva knew I was alright. Albus told her."

Harry took a moment to think on that. The occupants of the paintings in the Head's office could flit in and out of their frames to visit their counterparts. He supposed it made sense that there would be one here, in what had been his family home, although he guessed there were plenty others out there – Albus Dumbledore had been a very popular and very well respected man; he knew for a fact that there was one in the Minister's office.

Back in the picture, a dark haired man that had to be Percival Dumbledore grunted in his sleep. It was strange, he thought, seeing Albus Dumbledore painted looking older than his parents. It was sad that the other three people in the portrait had died so young.

"So…it's like he's alive?" he asked eventually. "He remembers everything that's happened to him and you can have conversations with him?"

"I can talk to him, yes," Snape said, eyes fixed on the portrait, "And he remembers. But it's not like he's alive. Far from it. It just serves as a constant reminder that he isn't."

Harry decided it was best to change the topic. Snape had let him into his home and Harry knew that he'd been thrown out after one wrong word.

Tearing his eyes away from the sleeping Dumbledores, he cleared his throat.

"So why _do_ you live in Godric's Hollow?" he asked again, looking at Snape. "I know Dumbledore left it to you in his will but…"

Snape seemed to come out of a stupor. He looked back at Harry and his face was fixed with unpleasantness once more.

"It's quiet," he told him briskly. "It's peaceful; it's out of the way. It's the last place people would expect me to be."

"But I thought you said you weren't hiding away from society?"

Snape narrowed his eyes at him and Harry had to fight back a grin.

"Why were you staying at _The Leaky Cauldron _last week?" he asked instead. "Why didn't you just go home?"

"Because I felt like a change of scenery," Snape replied. "You too would get bored if you were cooped up in the same place everyday, listening to Dumbledore witter on."

"You said you had reasons for not telling anyone where you had gone. What were they?"

"I told you that last time, Potter, I wanted to get away."

"And that's it?" he said sceptically. "That's your answer?"

"What do you want me to say?" he asked calmly, though his face looked tense. "That I had some special plan? That I had orders to follow? That I had something to hide? Is that what you're after? Some incredible story?"

"But then why – "

"I wanted to leave," Snape said. "It's as simple as that. I'd spent years at that school, years following orders. And then the war ended and I was free! And all of a sudden people didn't fear me anymore. People wanted to _thank_ me. Thank me for following Dumbledore's orders! Thank me for helping you!"

"Wait a minute," said Harry, staring at him, "You _wanted_ to be feared? You wanted people to _hate_ you?"

"I didn't want to be treated as a hero," he said sternly. "For Merlin's sake, I killed Albus Dumbledore!"

"For a reason!" Harry shouted. "He would have died anyway!"

"And that makes it alright, does it? To kill a dying man?"

"Dumbledore told you to," he pressed. "If _you_ hadn't done it than a Death Eater would have! He wanted you to keep your cover. He trusted you to watch over Hogwarts."

"And what a fantastic job I did!" he laughed bitterly.

"But you _did_," Harry said strongly. "You gave the students detentions instead of torturing them like the Death Eaters did. You made sure more people didn't _die_. You –"

"Potter!" he shouted, holding up his hands; his eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily.

Harry felt a stab of guilt. He remembered just how hard things had been for Snape back at Hogwarts. He'd been forced to kill his only friend and forced to work for a Dark Lord he'd absolutely despised. Whereas Harry wanted to hold on to the past, Snape wanted nothing more than to forget it.

Again, Harry's eyes found the portrait above the fire. Dumbledore and Harry were both a huge part of Snape's past. Both of them were the reasons Snape had suffered.

Suddenly, Harry felt ashamed of his own presence.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to go on about it. I'm just trying to make sense of it all."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I know you have your questions," he said slowly, "but I assure you, the answers aren't anywhere near as fascinating as you are no doubt hoping for."

"I wasn't hoping for anything spectacular," Harry told him. "Honest. I just wanted to fill in the gaps, that's all."

Snape lowered his hand from his face and surveyed Harry from where he sat. For the first time, Harry realised how much the man had aged. His face looked worn and the sunlight falling through the window made his dark hair look much lighter, almost grey.

"I've lived here since I left the hospital," Snape spoke. "I barely keep in touch with Minerva, and I sell potions via a magazine I write for."

"You write for a magazine?" Harry asked, intrigued. "Which one?"

"Potions Monthly."

"How come I've never heard – "

"I use a different name," Snape answered before he could finish.

"Oh. Well, that's good," he said. "You're keeping busy."

An awkward silence fell between the two and Harry frantically thought of something else to say. He nervously picked at his robe sleeve, amazed at how subdued Snape suddenly seemed. He didn't blame the man for wanting to escape to Diagon Alley for a change of scenery – being stuck in Dumbledore's old house with Dumbledore's portrait couldn't exactly be easy, especially when Dumbledore was connected with so many things Snape wanted to forget.

The man seemed so lonely…he wanted, perhaps _needed_, to talk but was holding himself back. Maybe Harry bumping into him had been a blessing? Maybe Harry could help? He hated seeing people like this. He knew what it felt like all too well.

"Listen," Harry said, "I have to get back to work but…you're not going to run away again, are you?"

"That depends," Snape said. "Are you going to visit again?"

"Yes," Harry answered straight away. "Look, maybe we could be friends?" he suggested before Snape could get out his retort. "We could get together and talk and stuff. We don't have to talk about…you know…but we could talk about anything. Maybe go for a drink in the village pub? I've always wondered what it was like in there."

Snape pressed his lips together in a thin line. He looked rather sour.

"And what makes you think I would welcome your company?" he asked, sounding more like his old self.

Harry ignored him and stood up. "So I'll see you on Friday, then?" he said. "Outside the pub at 8?"

And before Snape could reply, Harry let himself out.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry if this chapter wasn't what you were expecting. And sorry if it sucked. But I've read it through so many times that it just stopped making sense lol. It's time like these that I think having a beta for a second opinion would do the world of good! Anyways, the chapter is here so let me know what you think! And thank you for all the reviews of the last chapter! xx


	3. A Drink with Severus Snape

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Three: A Drink with Severus Snape**

The fireplace burst into emerald green life and a beautiful, red haired witch stumbled out onto the carpet, dusting soot off her green and gold robes and wearing a huge smile on her face.

"We won!" she cried out happily, flinging her arms in the air. "We qualified! We're in the European Championships!"

"That's great," Harry beamed, getting to his feet and pulling Ginny into a hug. "Fantastic! Congratulations."

"We totally slaughtered the Dijon Dragons," she told him cheerfully, "and we trashed the Falmouth Falcons, although they put up a good fight – knocked Rhiannon right off her broom."

"Beaten by an all girl team," Harry chuckled. "The Falcons must be fuming."

"Yup," Ginny smiled, kicking off her shoes. "Gwenog reckons we've made a new enemy out of them."

"Well, just be careful, OK?" Harry said. "I don't want you to have any nasty accidents."

Ginny rolled her eyes, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and headed for the bathroom.

It was nice to have her home, Harry thought as he sat back down. No more cold, empty beds at night, no more talking to himself in the mornings…everything was back to normal – or at least, as normal as things could ever be, what with Harry having a job that demanded he drop everything at a seconds notice to chase some criminal half way across the country, and Ginny having a job that required her to disappear for odd days whenever she had a match abroad. But still, it was a good life – exciting and comfortable – and he wouldn't have swapped it for the world.

With a happy sigh, he picked up the parchment and quill from the coffee table and sat back to examine the list he'd been making. To avoid any uncomfortable silences with Snape on Friday, he'd been jotting down a list of things they could talk about; Lily Potter, the war, Snape surviving said war. He wasn't sure if he should mention Dumbledore again, but he'd written that down, just in case. Of course, he could always talk about himself but he couldn't really see Snape taking that much of an interest.

It was pathetic, really, to be this nervous about seeing Snape. It wasn't like he was a student anymore and had to respect the boundaries; this time, if Snape said something nasty to Harry then Harry could just stand up and say something right back without fear of punishment – not that that had ever stopped him before. He hoped it wouldn't come to that though; he really wanted to make a go of this friendship thing with Snape; he wanted to show him just how grateful he was for everything the professor had done for him.

Feeling confident, he smiled to himself and folded up the parchment and put it in his pocket. He made his way into the kitchen to put dinner on, decided he couldn't be bothered with cooking, and headed upstairs to the bathroom.

"Gin?" he called through the door, "You fancy fish and chips tonight? Or pizza or Chinese or something?"

When he received no reply, he opened the door and stepped into the warm room. His glasses instantly fogged up and he tapped them with his wand before glancing about the room.

Ginny was stood beneath the hot spray of the shower, running her hands through her hair as she rinsed away the last of the shampoo.

Before she'd returned home, Harry had made sure to buy all of her favourite things. He'd stacked up on fizzing wizzbees, pumpkin pasties, peppermint toads, chocolate éclairs, Mrs. Weasley's special chicken and ham pie, and, of course, the mango scented body wash she loved so much, which she now reached out for after pushing her hair out of her eyes.

Harry watched as she lathered herself up; her arms, her stomach, her gorgeous breasts which he had missed so much, so firm, never failing to fit in the palm of his hands so perfectly. Her newly tanned skin seemed to shine with a healthy glow under the soft bathroom lights and Harry eyes followed her hand, down her hips, down her long legs…

By the time he looked up, she was smiling at him. He blushed slightly at being caught staring but her smile just widened and there was a cheeky glimmer in her eyes. She brought a hand up to her breast and squeezed, before lightly fingering one of her nipples, pinching and circling, until it hardened to a peak. Then she let her hand trail down her body.

Harry's cock twitched.

Yes, he thought as he stripped himself of his clothes, it was very nice to have her home.

* * *

"Oh, I almost forgot," said Ginny; she was huddled on the sofa, wrapped in her flowery pink bathrobe, eating the takeaway fish and chips out of their paper wrappings. "Gwenog's throwing a party on Friday night to celebrate the team qualifying. You'll be there, right?"

Harry, who was huddled at the other end of the sofa, looked up.

"I can't, Gin," he said, "I'm really sorry but I've made plans already."

"So?" she said. "Can't you cancel them?"

Harry shook his head. "You know I hate cancelling on people."

Ginny pouted and batted her eyelashes. "Just this once? Pretty please? For me?"

Tempted as he was by the sounds of a Quidditch party, he couldn't. He was meeting Snape that night and if he cancelled then the man might not agree to give him another chance. He really didn't want to risk it.

"I'm sorry," he said again, "but it's important. Besides, you know Rhiannon and I don't exactly get along." Rhiannon was the Holyhead Harpies goal keeper who never failed to glare at Harry whenever she saw him.

"You don't even try!" Ginny protested. "If you'd just give her a chance…"

"Give her a chance? Gin, she's an overzealous lesbian feminist who thinks all men are rapists."

"Oh, she's not…that bad."

"She punched Charlie in the face," he pointed out.

"He came on to her," she defended.

"He asked where the toilets were!"

"The point is," she went on, pointing a chip at him, "you should get to know her more. You have a lot in common."

"Like?" he asked, reaching for his drink.

"Well…you're both good at Quidditch," she said. "And you both fancy me."

Harry laughed but shook his head. "It doesn't matter anyway," he said. "I can't go. Next time I will though, I promise."

Ginny grumbled as he drained the rest of his drink and got up to put the rubbish in the bin.

"It's nice to know where your priorities lie," she called out after him.

Harry stuck out his tongue and was promptly hit in the face with a soggy chip.

* * *

Laughter and old 80's pop music drifted out of the windows as Harry stood waiting outside the friendly looking pub. The small stone building, very much like the cottages in the village, had a colourful display of flowers; large plant pots sat around the edges of the tavern and lovely little hanging baskets hung at the corners of the windows as ivy crept neatly up the walls. The words "The Lion" were emblazoned above the door in red and gold, next to which hung a wooden sign depicting a sleeping lion.

Every now and then Harry would look up when he heard footsteps approaching, hoping to see Severus Snape striding towards him, robes billowing just for old times' sake. So far, however, he had been disappointed and the only people who had entered the pub had been complete strangers, although he _had_ noticed that some of them had been wizards; (it was easy to tell the wizards and muggles apart – the muggles were the ones who walked right passed him without a second glance and the wizards were the ones who stopped, wide-eyed, and stared at him as if he were some kind of supernatural being.)

A warm, gentle breeze sent the trees rustling and the sign approve Harry's head creaked on its hinges; the lion gave an almighty snore and turned around to make itself more comfortable.

After a few more people (muggles this time) had entered the pub, Harry decided it was time to check his watch. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and glanced down; 8:03. He frowned and gazed about the village square.

It was only three minutes, he told himself; three minutes were nothing! Although, technically, it was _something_ – you could play a whole song in three minutes!

Feeling a little anxious, he looked around the square again; he didn't know whether to be amused or mortified at the idea of Snape standing him up!

After another three minutes had gone by (and in which he'd seriously started to consider walking the short distance to Snape's house and forcing his company on the stubborn git!) he noticed a lone, dark figure making its way briskly across the square. As it stepped under a street light, Harry let of a breath of relief.

"You're late," he called out, but he was smiling as Snape drew closer.

Snape stopped in front of him and gave a snort. He pulled Harry's wrist towards him and shoved up his sleeve.

"Your watch is seven minutes fast," he informed him, in lofty tones. "I am, in fact, one minute early."

Harry stared, feeling incredibly stupid.

"Shall we go in?" he suggested, ignoring the smirk that had appeared on Snape's face.

"Lead the way."

Walking into the pub was like walking into a muggle version of the Gryffindor common room. Large, comfy-looking armchairs surrounded an unlit fireplace whilst oak tables and chairs were scattered about the room at various intervals. The walls, which were covered in old-fashioned red and brown wallpaper, were lined with unmoving paintings and photographs of nearby sites and sceneries. The lights were all electrical but were styled to look like fancy candelabras, some fixed onto the walls, others standing on tables.

As Snape shut the door and Harry stepped further into the room, there was a noticeable dip in sound as all wizarding eyes swivelled in his direction. Smiling at no one in particular, he made his way over to the bar.

"This is so cool," said Harry, admiring the room as he waited to be served. "It's just like being back at Hogwarts again."

Snape grimaced and eyed the armchairs.

"It's all so…Dumbledore," he said distastefully.

Harry chuckled and waited for one of the bartenders to come over, trying to pretend that his name wasn't being whispered on peoples' lips. He'd known going into a public place like this would draw attention to himself, especially in Godric's Hollow, but he had wanted to visit the little pub that had most likely been a part of his parents' lives when they had lived here. He'd been visiting the graveyard every year but he'd never had the confidence to go anywhere else.

After a minute or so, a dark haired barmaid came over and smiled brightly at him.

"What can I get you, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"Oh," he said stupidly, caught off guard – he'd been sure the bartenders were muggle. "Erm, I'll have a butterbeer if you've got one. Snape?"

"Firewhisky. I have a feeling I'll need it."

After Harry had paid for the drinks (which were charmed to look like muggle ones) he followed Snape over to a table in the far right corner of the pub. They sat down and Harry took a sip of his drink. He felt extremely nervous.

"So," he said, tapping his fingers on the side of his can of butterbeer. "Thank you for coming."

"I didn't do it for you Potter," Snape assured him. "I simply wanted to get away from Dumbledore's mad portrait.

"How is Dumbledore?" he asked.

"Dead," Snape replied.

Harry flushed a little. "I know that," he said. "I meant the portrait."

"I know you did."

Harry glared at him. "You're trying to make this as awkward as you possibly can, aren't you?" he guessed.

Snape simply smirked and took a swig of his drink.

Harry shook his head and decided it was best to move on.

"There's something I want to get out of the way first, so I'm just going to get right to it," he said. "How _did_ you survive? I mean, obviously I know Madam Pomfrey helped a lot by shoving an antidote down your throat and filling you with blood replenishing potions, but even she was surprised that it worked; she said that the amount of poison in your body should have killed you."

Snape considered him for a moment before putting his glass down and fixing Harry with one of his looks.

"I invented _Sectumsempra_," he said, talking slowly as if to a child (or, Harry thought, a dim-witted student.) "I also invented a spell to heal those wounds. The snake bite was nothing compared to that. And after spending so much time around that bloody snake, do you really think that I didn't take _every precaution necessary?_ My body was full of anti-venoms. They managed to sustain me just long enough. Although," Snape added, rather accusingly, "by the time someone _finally_ decided to retrieve my body, I was teetering on the brink of death."

"We were fighting a war!" Harry protested. "And we were so sure that you had died. There were other things to do than add another dead body to the pile. There were injuries to heal, people to comfort."

"And yet…you skipped that part and went straight to bed, did you not?" said Snape.

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that; he wanted to defend himself but every time he tried to think of an excuse, he was hit by a wave of guilt.

Snape scowled at him. "Five hours I was in that shack, lying in a pool of my own blood, not able to live, not able to die! I knew you hated me, Potter, but _that_ much?"

Harry stared, dumbstruck. "I – I didn't –"

"What? You didn't think? You didn't care? By the time Minerva found me, I was praying death would come because I was in so much agony."

"But I didn't –"

"And so I was healed, _saved_, and I realised I didn't want to be a part of this world anymore. I had nothing and my job was done. So I fled. And then I had to endure seeing _your_ face on the front cover of _The Daily Prophet_ everyday as you attempted to clear my name. Felt guilty did you? Knowing you had left me there for _dead_ whilst you carried on with your happy little –"

"I didn't know, Snape!" he shouted, so loud that heads turned in their direction. "I didn't know you were alive," he continued in a lower voice. "If I had, I would have been back there as soon as humanly possible! But I thought you were dead. I didn't want to go back there and see your body. I'm sorry, OK?"

Snape scoffed and looked at Harry in disgust. "Sorry?" he mocked. "You're not sorry, Potter. You don't care about anyone but yourself."

"If that was true then I wouldn't be here, would I?" he said strongly.

Snape sneered and shook his head. "The only reason you are here, Potter, is because you have a guilty conscience that needs soothing." And with that he downed the rest his drink, stood up, and made to head for the door.

Harry shot out a hand and fastened it about the man's wrist before he could take two steps.

"Please," he said, looking up at him. He didn't want this to be the end of things, especially when a part of him realised that what Snape had said was probably true, even if he hadn't acknowledged it before now. Snape had every right to be angry.

"Please," he said again. "I'm sorry, I really am. The moment I found out you were still alive, I rushed down to see you, to thank you, to apologise. But you were unconscious. And then the next day you were gone. Please, sit down."

Snape stood still, eyes locked on Harry's. He seemed to be struggling with himself, fighting his own personal battle and Harry imagined he knew just what that involved – go home to an empty house with nothing but Dumbledore's portrait for company, or stay here with Harry and actually have a conversation.

Harry hid a smile as Snape sat back down with a sigh.

"I'll have another," he said, indicating his empty glass.

Harry nodded and went to the bar.

By the time Harry rejoined their table, Snape had taken off his long coat. He was now sat, legs outstretched, wearing black pants, a white dress shirt, and a black waistcoat. Harry thought it seemed pretty formal for a drink in a pub, but then at the same time he couldn't really imagine Snape wearing jeans and a t-shirt so he figured it made sense.

"So," said Snape dryly, picking up his firewhisky. "You killed the Dark Lord. Congratulations." He toasted Harry with his drink and downed half the glass.

"I hate it when people say I killed him," Harry muttered. "It makes me sound like a murderer. I didn't even kill him; I used _Expelliarmus_ – not exactly _Avada Kedavra _is it?"

"Still," said Snape, "it had the desired effect. He had the Elder Wand and you were its Master. You had to know what would happen should he use the killing curse."

"He'd already used it on me once that day," Harry told him. "I died. I saw Dumbledore. I came back. But I didn't kill him. Obviously I wanted to and if I'd had the power, the strength, the courage to cast _Avada Kedavra_ then I might have done…but I didn't…and I'm glad I didn't. I'm glad it happened the way it did. But people don't see it the way I do – they walk up to me in the streets and thank me for killing him."

Snape, who had been watching intently as he'd talked, looked down into his glass. He swirled its contents round gently, looking thoughtful.

"Sometimes…" he said, slowly. "Sometimes in order to stop evil, you have to make certain sacrifices. Sometimes you have to go to places you'd rather avoid." He lifted his eyes from his drink and looked at Harry. "If you hadn't have killed him – and yes, Potter, that is what you did…if you hadn't killed him then hundreds of people would have died."

Harry didn't say anything but nodded his silent agreement. He'd always known he'd done the right thing, just like he'd always known he would do it again and again if he had to, but sometimes the way people reacted towards him, the way they worded their thanks…_you don't thank murderers!_ But then, as Snape had said, sometimes it's the only way to stop something.

He cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink.

"Well," he said, trying to push the uneasiness aside, "At least I proved that _Expelliarmus _is a good spell. Some people in the DA used to laugh when I tried to teach it to them; they said it would be useless against Voldemort."

"You should never underestimate magic," Snape said and there was a trace of a smile on his lips.

"Or love," said Harry. "Dumbledore was always going on about love being important; I always thought he was barmy. But then I realised what he meant. Love is a very powerful thing; it sways us in certain directions; it gives us courage and something to believe in; it helps us stand together."

Snape rolled his eyes. "This is all very touching, Potter, but what does this have to do with anything?"

"Narcissa Malfoy saved my life you know," he went on as if Snape hadn't spoken. "She told Voldemort I was dead when she knew I was alive all because she wanted to be with her son."

"Again," said Snape, "What does this have to do with anything?"

Harry took another gulp of his drink and set his glass aside.

"I still have your memories."

Snape's jaw tightened as he stared at Harry, but he said nothing.

"I think you know what I'm going to ask you," said Harry. "Were you really in love with my mum?"

"That is none of your business," he replied stiffly.

"She was my mother, of course it's my business."

"You weren't even born!"

"It makes no difference!"

"Potter!" he warned.

"I just want to understand," he told him. "Please."

In all honesty, Harry wasn't sure why it was so important for him to find out. Maybe it was some morbid fascination he had with how his cruel potions professor had loved someone he couldn't have, or maybe it was simply because it concerned his mother, someone whom he would dearly have loved to know more about. Whatever it was, the need was there and he was grateful when Snape started to speak – perhaps he had given in; perhaps he had wanted to talk. Perhaps it was the firewhisky.

"What I felt for your mother," he said, quietly, "was never anything sexual. She was my best friend and yes, I did love her. I wanted her all to myself. I always found something horrible to say about the boys she dated but she found it endearing that I was so protective of her." He paused and his eyes grew dark. "Then she started dating James Potter. Of all the people in the school, she fell in love with _him_, the person who I despised beyond all others. It felt like a betrayal."

Harry was silent as he thought over Snape's words. He tried to bite his tongue but…

"Are you trying to say it's her fault that you joined the Death Eaters?" he asked.

"Nothing of the sort," he said. "That was my fault." He left it at that and, despite everything, Harry was afraid to push. He quickly cast around for a change of subject but before he could think of what else was on his list, Snape spoke again.

"I no longer have the Dark Mark," he said to Harry, whose eyebrows rose at Snape confiding something like that in him.

"Can I have a look?" he asked, sitting forwards. Snape hesitated but pulled up his sleeve. There, etched into the skin of his arm, was a faded lightning bolt, the same as the one that had marked Harry's forehead for so long.

"Do all the Death Eaters have those?" he asked as Snape pushed his sleeve back down.

"I wouldn't know," he replied. "But I assume so, yes."

"Oh. Well, I can no longer speak to snakes," he told him. "Can you still fly?"

Snape nodded.

After that, conversation became a lot easier, especially as the drinks continued to flow. After five firewhiskys, Snape actually asked how Teddy Lupin was doing and Harry told him, happily, of how he visited his godson every weekend and how well he and Andromeda were doing. "We're taking him to the aquarium tomorrow," he told him happily; "He loves fish. Wouldn't dare eat one though."

He told him of Ron and Hermione living together and of how Percy Weasley's wife, Audrey, had just given birth ("Not another bloody Weasley!") to a baby girl named Molly. He also told him of how Luna was now dating the famous Newt Scamander's grandson, Rolf, and all about Neville wanting to become a teacher at Hogwarts (Snape had almost spat his drink out at that.) When he'd told him of his engagement to Ginny, (which he'd already read about in the papers anyway) the man had simply said "congratulations" and asked for another drink.

Much too soon, closing time came and the bartenders started shooing the drunken revellers out of the pub.

Harry stood and waited as a rather inebriated Snape tried to shrug on his coat – he'd lost count of how many drinks the man had had but it didn't matter; as awkward as the evening had started out, Harry had really enjoyed himself and was quite sorry to see the night come to an end. It had been such a long time since he'd been able to just sit and talk and Snape, it turned out, was a great listener.

When Snape had finally succeeded in putting on his coat, they joined the throng of people heading for the door.

Harry looked sideways at his new friend.

"Next Friday, same time?" he asked, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck. Surprisingly, Snape agreed with his request before stumbling out of the door and falling flat on his face.

* * *

**A/N:** You know what I found really weird, but what was also really, really weird in itself? – Writing that little bit of non-slash between Harry and Ginny. It made me realise that I've never actually described a naked girl before and I found it extremely difficult to do. I think I've been reading waaaay too much slash.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed and please review!


	4. Gaining a Friend

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Four: Gaining a Friend**

With a heavy groan, Harry pulled off his glasses and rubbed his hands over his face. The text lying open on his desk swam before his eyes and he combed his fingers through his messy hair so that it stood on end more so than usual. He stretched his arms out high and arched his back with a satisfying sigh, getting rid of all the achy kinks that had settled in his muscles. He then folded his arms on top of his desk and buried his head.

It was Monday morning. He'd been at work for a total of 3 hours and 47 minutes and already he wished the day would end. During the weekend his personal life, as always, had been splashed across the papers for all to see and if one more person asked him about it he was seriously going to hex them. Why did people seem to think that Harry's business was their business? And why did they believe that Harry would happily discuss it with them if they approached him? And why, _why_, did they all jump to conclusions because of a stupid picture and a stupid article written by a stupid so-called reporter?

Just because Ginny had attended Gwenog's Quidditch party with her brother George instead of her fiancé Harry did _not_ mean they had broken up! Just because they were engaged to be married did _not_ mean they had to go everywhere together! He was used to being treated like a hero – it still made him feel uncomfortable but he understood that people needed someone to believe in, someone to have faith in if things ever got as bad as they had during the war – but being treated like some sort of muggle celebrity? Snapped by the paparazzi and gossiped about in papers and magazines? He was an Auror, damn it!

And if that wasn't enough, he now had his boss breathing down his neck about the still-unsolved murder case. Gawain Robards, previous Head Auror, was now in charge of the entire Magical Law Enforcement Department. He was smug and patronising and was sarcastic in an 'I'm-joking-but-I'm-not-really-joking' sort of way, but he was good at his job and that was all that mattered. Socially, he and Harry were quite good friends – they went to pubs and clubs together and went on 'lads weekends' with the other male Aurors, which usually consisted of going to another Country, watching a Quidditch match, getting drunk, and usually ended up with one or two of them (never Harry) getting arrested and thrown into a muggle prison for the night.

At work, their relationship couldn't have been more different. The man seemed to take great pleasure in seeing Harry struggle and as much as Harry would have loved to prove his boss wrong, he couldn't. He simply couldn't.

He was fed up and his brain felt full of cobwebs – heavy, boulder-sized cobwebs that weighed his head down so much that he wanted to sit with his head in his arms all day long and do absolutely nothing. But the knock on the door told him he couldn't do that either. He groaned.

"Come in," he called out, still not looking up. The door clicked open and he heard indistinct voices chatting away before the door closed, shutting it all out.

"You alright mate?" a voice asked him and he recognised it as Ron's.

"Urgh," he grunted.

Ron chuckled and Harry heard him cross the room and take a seat.

"What's it this time?" he asked Harry. "The paper or Big Boss Robards?"

"Both," he muttered into his arms. "Stupid newspaper. Stupid people. Stupid Robards. Stupid criminals. Everything's just stupid."

"Yeah," said Ron. "But you know what to do, don't you? Just ignore the paper like you always do; people will get bored eventually and move on. As for work, well…it _is_ a bit harsh that he won't let you take on something new, but I reckon he's testing you. Your first big case since you became Head Auror and all that. He wants to see how you handle it."

Harry groaned again, but part of what his friend had said actually made sense so he lifted his head from his arms and slipped his glasses back on.

Ron looked the same as ever, just much broader of shoulder and chest. He'd been sporting a rather rugged look recently, intent on growing a beard to make himself look more "dark and mysterious"; Hermione, thankfully, had vetoed that idea straight away and so it was a newly shaven Ron that smiled at Harry across his desk, looking very bright with his red hair and red robes.

"I can handle it just fine," he told Ron, sitting up in his chair. "It's not _my_ fault we don't have any new leads. Until Davidson or McCulloch make a move, we're stuck."

He tried, once more, to throw himself into the investigation; he picked up the file on his desk and flicked it open. Words that he had read a hundred times stared up at him and he dropped the file back down with a resigned sigh. His heart just wasn't in it.

"You fancy going for lunch?" he asked Ron, who nodded. He got up from his chair and they both made their way through the busy room and towards the corridor.

"So," said Ron, sounding as if he was trying to make conversation, "You set a date for the wedding yet?"

Harry followed him into the lift. He pressed the button for 'Level 8 – The Atrium' and the lift began to descend.

"We've only just got engaged," Harry said. "Why would we set a date?"

"Well, you know how girls are with that sort of thing," he said, as if he was an expert on the subject. "As soon as you've got a ring on their finger, they're hurrying you down the aisle with no expense spared."

"Ginny's not like that," he told Ron. "She's not even mentioned the wedding since the engagement party. We're doing it all in our own time and at a pace we're comfortable with."

"Mate, trust me," said Ron, "even my sister's not immune. The wedding bug will bite soon and then it'll be all flowers and dresses and food, you'll see. Bet you anything you're married by Christmas."

Harry frowned.

"What about you and Hermione?" he asked, stepping aside as the lift doors slid open on Level 6 and a few people joined them. "Are you guys planning on tying the knot anytime soon?"

"Well," said Ron, slowly, "Mum keeps going on at me about it, but I just don't think we're there yet, you know? I know it's been almost five years and I know we're living together now but…I dunno…marriage is this huge thing to women."

"Not just to women," he assured him. "I wouldn't have asked Ginny to marry me if I wasn't sure."

"But it's a lifetime though, isn't it," said Ron. "How can anyone be sure if that's how they want to spend a lifetime?"

The lift came to a stop and the doors opened up onto the noisy Atrium. A large picture of Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled down at them as they stepped out into the large hall and Harry smiled back, thinking of how fortunate they were to finally have such a trustworthy Minister.

"You know," said Harry, leading the way towards the canteen, "for someone who's always been in love with Hermione and has wanted to spend his life with her, you really sound like you've got cold feet over this. Is everything OK?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer but closed it again as they reached the dinner hall. They quickly joined the line and ordered their food and minutes later they were sat down at a table in the busy room.

Harry pulled the wrapping off his chicken and mayonnaise sandwich and bit into it as Ron drowned his chips in vinegar.

"Well?" Harry asked. "You and Hermione alright?"

"As well as we could be," he replied. "It's just this moving in together thing. I thought it'd be nice to be around each other all that time – you know, cuddles in the morning and sex at night. But it's a lot harder than I thought it would be. I forgot how much she used to annoy me at school."

Harry laughed.

"I'm serious," Ron went on. "She sits around reading books and making lists and plans and things. There was never any of that when we went on dates – it was just fun Hermione back then. Now we're living together I've remembered what bossy Hermione is like and how she _hates_ being disturbed."

"But isn't that the Hermione you fell in love with at school?" he said. "You've known that about her all along."

Ron looked thoughtful as he dipped his chips in ketchup.

"I suppose," he said. "It's not like I've gone off her or anything. I still love her. It's just weird, is all."

"You'll get used to it," Harry assured him. "It's bound to be difficult when you're learning to live with someone. Not only do your privacy levels drop dramatically, you have to learn to live with every aspect of their personality."

Ron looked over at him.

"You and Ginny didn't seem to have any problems," he said.

"We had plenty."

"Really? Like what?"

"Well," said Harry, thinking, "We argued constantly about food; we always wanted to eat something different so we'd cook for ourselves at different times – it was a month until we started eating meals together. And we were forever complaining about each others' habits – I mean, I like tidying up _after_ I've finished something, yeah? But Ginny likes tidying up as she _goes along_; she was always saying that I was too messy and I was saying that she was too organised. And she _hates_ it when I walk through the house in my shoes; I was so used to doing it at Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place that it took me some time to remember to take them off. And there's no point in talking to her when she's in one of her moods because _everything_ I say and do is wrong. And I _hate_ the way she makes the bed in the morning, piling it with all those pillows…there's just no need for them! And sometimes she just _expects_ me to drop everything at her say so and do whatever she wants – well I'm sorry, but that's just _not_ going to happen! And sometimes she's upset and she expects me to know what's wrong when I haven't a single, bloody clue!"

Harry finished with a great, satisfying sigh and reached for his dessert.

"Feel better?" said Ron, staring at him in amusement.

"Hmm, much," Harry nodded with a smile.

* * *

Severus set his best quill aside and glanced down at his finished article on the recent advancements of Amortentia. For the first time in his career as a Potions Master and Journalist he was having second thoughts about submitting his work.

After months of research and development, (and hiring, firing, and Obliviating test subjects) he'd finally found a way to make the love potion, Amortentia, stronger. A colleague of his had been so certain that it couldn't be done; naturally, Severus had seen that as a challenge and had proceeded to lose himself in frozen Ashwinder eggs and bubbling cauldrons. The thought of gloating about his achievement was an enticing one, but a part of him – the part he'd listened to during the war – was telling him that releasing this discovery was a bad idea; no longer did the potion just cause obsession with the intended target, tricking its victim into thinking they were in love. No, what Severus had created was pretty much liquid Imperius.

People would do anything for love and that worried him. If they got their hands on this potion then the world would be full of men and women running around killing, stealing, committing all kinds of atrocious acts, all claiming it was in the name of love.

He stood up with a sigh and paced about the room, glancing every now and then back down at the parchment.

He supposed he could submit the article without the instructions on how to make it but he imagined his boss wouldn't be very thrilled. He'd want a demonstration and that, of course, would lead to publicity and eventually things would get out of hand. Just knowing that such a potion existed would cause countless letters to arrive, all offering incredible amounts of money in exchange for his services.

Fifteen years ago he wouldn't have thought twice about revealing his findings. He would have bathed in the glory and recognition it brought to his name. But now?

He stopped his pacing and sat down on the window seat.

The war had taught him a lot about himself, he realised; about the man he was and the lengths he would go to, about how far he would allow himself to be pushed. He didn't care for the Order of Merlin he'd been awarded – he hadn't even turned up at the ceremony – and he certainly didn't care for glorifying his name. It wouldn't even be his name that got the glory either, but that of Augustus Prince, his alias in the journalism world.

Albus snored in his picture and Severus looked up with a scowl. If it had been possible to get rid of that painting then he would have done so the moment he stepped foot inside the cottage. But the Dumbledore's, like Mrs. Black, had found a way to stick themselves permanently to the wall above the fireplace. Severus just thanked whatever deity he was supposed to thank that the occupants of the portrait spent most of their time asleep.

The large grandfather clock in the corner chimed 8. Severus cursed. This time he really _was_ late to meet Potter.

He got to his feet once more and looked down at the Amortentia article. It was Friday – the deadline was Saturday and publication was Monday. He wouldn't have time to write a different piece but he was fairly certain that he could not let this one be published. With a sigh he opened his desk drawer and pulled out some parchment; a few weeks ago he'd written an article on the ever growing uses of Asphodel – his backup plan, should he ever find himself unable to make the deadline. He rolled it up into a scroll, spelled it closed, and strode out the room.

As he stepped into his shoes he tried to tell himself that he wasn't looking forward to meeting Potter. He still believed everything he'd said last week, that the only reason Potter was sniffing about was because he had a conscience that needed soothing. Severus was a charity case to Potter, a project, and nothing more – as soon as he felt he'd done his bit then he'd be off quicker than a Golden Snitch.

And Severus wouldn't have put up with it if he wasn't so damn lonely. As much as he hated it, there was no denying it – he was going crazy stuck in this house with nothing but a portrait for company. He knew very well that Potter would disappear when he felt his "duty" had been fulfilled, but his need to get out and do _something_ had grown so large that it could no longer be ignored. Taking trips to Diagon Alley and spending weekends abroad were no longer enough to distract him.

He'd always hated crowds and he'd always hated making conversation. But, admittedly, he missed the banter. He missed being able to stand in the Staff Room and insult the teachers, be insulted back, and then smile and part ways, no harm done.

He wasn't looking for friendship from Harry Potter. He merely wanted something to tide him over until his own company became bearable again. That's all Potter was to him – he was nothing more than a fix.

* * *

That so-called "fix" quickly became something of a semi-permanent fixture. A month later, Harry and Severus were still meeting every Friday outside the pub in Godric's Hollow and the table they sat at had quickly become _their_ table.

Severus had come to see the meetings as one of the high points of his week. He honestly hadn't realised how much he needed to share. He shuddered at the thought, but it was actually _nice_ to have someone to converse with. He'd been so withdrawn since the death of Albus that he hadn't noticed how dire things had become.

And so every Friday he would talk with surprising ease about the war and his past and he gladly answered any questions Potter had about his mother. Potter would ask about his work, seeming genuinely interested, and Severus would take great pleasure in describing the discoveries, however small, he'd made. Potter, being an Auror, agreed that Severus had done the right thing in keeping the improved Amortentia a secret; it would cause too much trouble for the Ministry and they had enough things on their plates.

He was still cautious of the situation and had been careful not to drink enough to become inebriated again; no matter how much he drank in the comfort of his own home, he couldn't afford to do it in public – he wasn't naïve enough to believe that just because he'd been declared a hero he would be safe, despite the Death Eater's being locked in the new wizard-guarded Azkaban. And besides, he needed to keep a clear head where Potter was concerned

But by the time April rolled around, Severus had to admit that he was enjoying himself. He'd even started to re-question Potter's motives – it had been almost two months and _still_ the Auror showed no signs of abating. Maybe he really _did_ want to be friends? And if he did…well…Severus wasn't so sure he'd be averse to the idea.

After all those years spent hating the brat it suddenly felt like he'd gained back a piece of Lily.

* * *

"I like it here," Potter said one evening, dropping onto Severus' sofa. They'd met, as usual, outside 'The Lion' at 8 but had decided to go back to the cottage for something to eat. Potter's hair was a mess but he looked rather handsome in his dark jeans and blue dress shirt.

"It's so peaceful and quiet," he continued. "My house is spelled to keep most noise out, but it doesn't feel like this. This is a natural peace."

Severus set a bowl of vegetable soup in front of Potter and moved to sit in the armchair.

"Why do you live in London anyway?" he asked. "Why not in Godric's Hollow? I always assumed you'd jump at the chance to live in the same village your parents had."

"Because I was young and foolish and had money, that's why," said Potter. "I wanted to be where the action was."

"But not anymore?"

Potter frowned, reaching for his soup.

"Ginny likes it," he said after a few mouthfuls. "It's a gorgeous house and she loves being in the city."

"That doesn't answer my question," Severus said, watching him carefully.

Potter shrugged.

"I get enough action at work," he said. "Sometimes I think it would be nice to come home to a quiet little village. But I can't fault London – it's got everything; great shops, great restaurants, great bars…not to mention it's perfectly located for work and the hospital."

"But you're a wizard," Severus said, watching as Potter tore a piece of bread in two. "Location doesn't matter when it comes to travel – you can just apparate of use the floo network."

Potter smiled at him rather sheepishly and gave another shrug.

"Sometimes I like to get the bus," he admitted.

Severus' eyebrows shot up.

"Why on Earth would you want to do that?" he asked.

"Not everything is about magic, you know," he said, waving a piece of bread at him. "A lot of people take it for granted. I like to feel a part of it."

"A part of what?"

"_It_," he repeated. "The muggle world. It used to be all I knew. I may not have liked that time of my life, but it was a part of me, a part of my mother. And muggles don't know me," he went on explaining. "Sometimes, if it's been a particularly trying week and I've been in the papers, then it's nice to just become anonymous for a while."

He finished, looking a little flushed, and busied himself with his bread and soup. He probably thought Severus was going to make some sarcastic comment, mocking him for his celebrity status and his desire to be unknown. Severus, however, had no intention of doing so – if the two months had taught him anything it was that Harry Potter was not the spoilt, selfish brat he'd always believed him to be. In fact, he was the exact opposite. If his dedication to befriend Severus was anything to go by, he was kind and caring just like Lily had been.

Although Harry wasn't his mother any more than he was his father, that much was glaringly obvious. He was his own person with his own nature, his own sense of right and wrong, his own loves and his own fears. He was the figure of hope to many and Severus was just coming to understand why.

Maybe he really _could_ be friends with Harry Potter.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry it's a bit of a short one. Thankyou to everyone who is adding to alerts/favs and reviewing!


	5. Flying

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Five: Flying**

"What's it like? Being able to fly?"

It was late April and Harry Potter was once more stretched out across the sofa, butterbeer in hand and a frown upon his face. He looked curiously over at Severus, who drummed his fingers on the side of his own drink. He stared down into the amber depths of the glass and decided how best to answer the question.

"It's both a curse and a blessing," he said after a while, bringing the drink up to his lips.

"Really?" Harry sounded surprised. "I think it's pretty cool."

Severus snorted and looked at him.

"Would you think it _'cool'_ if you were reminded of the Dark Lord every time you did it?" he asked.

Harry had the decency to look sheepish.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I didn't think."

Severus gave a deep, un-amused laugh and downed the rest of his drink with a grimace. He set the empty glass aside and sat back in his chair, studying Harry. He was sat across from Severus, dressed in blue work robes and looking utterly tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was messier than ever and Severus couldn't help but wonder why their Friday meeting had gone ahead when it was obvious the man in front of him had had a long day.

A lot had changed in the five years that had passed since the war and Harry was no exception…and yet, at the same time, he was; he was different, but he was also the same person he'd been at Hogwarts. He was strong and wise, quite capable of being level-headed, but he was still full of that boyish naivety that had been behind so many of his inane ideas. Severus hated the naïve – it was a weakness, a quick road to being truly gullible – but the title seemed to sit comfortably with Harry and he carried it well.

He watched Harry take a swig from the can in his hand and decided to continue, if only to humour the other man.

"It's unnatural," he said. "Flying," he added, in answer to Harry's puzzled look. "Humans shouldn't be able to fly like that."

"Yeah, but we're wizards," said Harry. "Maybe it's just…I dunno…evolution or something."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Evolution?"

"Well whatever it is, it can't be Dark Magic, right? It seems too…" Harry broke off, struggling to find the right word. He gave a frown and glanced around the room. "If he could do it," he said, nodding towards the portrait of Dumbledore, "If he had been the one to teach you how to fly, would you feel the way you do now?"

Severus shook his head dismissively. "It still doesn't change the fact that it's unnatural."

"But does it _feel_ unnatural?" Harry asked. "Doesn't it feel good? At all?"

Severus sighed and brought a hand to his temple. Honestly, the things he put up with…

"I'm not going to say it feels dreadful because it doesn't," he said heavily. "In fact, it feels incredible. But then I remember why I can do it; the Dark Lord taught me, a maniac who wanted to be as unique and as twisted as he could possibly be."

"Flying doesn't seem to be twisted though," Harry said. "If anything, it's one of those things people wish they could do…gliding effortlessly through the sky without danger, feeling completely free…it's a whole other kind of magic really."

Severus grunted. "It isn't without its dangers, I assure you, and it requires a _great_ deal of effort. And as for feeling 'completely free', I'd say it's the exact opposite, the amount of concentration it takes."

Harry's eyebrows lowered into a frown. "Superman can do it and Lois always loved it when she went flying with him."

Severus let out a bark of laughter. "Superman? I thought you were an Auror, Potter. Spare me, please."

Harry just shrugged and downed his drink.

* * *

On the way home from work a week later it suddenly occurred to Harry that he was actually enjoying Snape's company. True, he seemed to be just as miserable and short-tempered as ever, but there was something else lurking beneath the surface that Harry had never seen at school – or, more accurately perhaps, had never _bothered_ to see at school. Severus Snape had a sense of humour; it was subtle and it was dry, but it was there nonetheless.

He couldn't successfully explain to himself why he looked forward to seeing Snape each week. Maybe it had something to do with the connection he had to Harry's parents? Maybe it was because of the change of pace the meetings had brought to Harry's life? He was very fortunate to have a lovely home and loving fiancé, but things did tend to get a little monotonous every now and then.

And Snape did seem to be enjoying himself as well. OK, perhaps 'enjoying' was the wrong word, for all Harry ever managed to get out of the man was sarcastic laughter, sniggers, and raised eyebrows. But he hadn't yet kicked Harry out of his home and that definitely had to count for something.

The bus turned a corner and pulled into a quiet street. Harry got up from his seat and pressed the bell, waiting for the bus to stop. It hadn't been a hard day that had triggered the desire to travel home the muggle way; rather, he'd just wanted time to think, to gather his thoughts.

The bus slowed to a halt and the doors opened. As he hopped down the step onto the pavement he pulled the hood of his coat (transfigured from his cloak) up over his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets before setting off down the road.

He was still surprised at how well he was getting on with Snape and he wasn't sure if that worried him or not. Even though Snape was still capable of being just as frightening as he had been at Hogwarts, there was something about the way in which he had let Harry into his life…like all the fight had gone out of him, like he'd just given up. Maybe Snape really was lonely and was glad of the company? Or was there more to it than that? Had he truly given in to the point where sharing a drink with Harry was preferable to the life he was living?

Harry shook the thoughts from his head as he rounded a corner and climbed the few stones steps to his front door. He was just being paranoid, as usual. Snape had been a Death Eater and a spy after all – the man was made of the strong stuff.

He opened the door and toed of his shoes, transfigured his coat back into a cloak and hung it up.

"I'm back!" he called. He made his way into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair. The smell of cooking food reached his nose and his stomach grumbled.

"Hey honey," Ginny's cheerful voice rang out. He looked round and saw her stood at the fridge. "You're just in time. Pie and chips is in the oven."

"Molly's chicken and ham?" he asked hopefully.

"Yup," she smiled. She pulled out a large carton of pumpkin juice and filled two glasses, which she then placed on the table. "And speaking of my mother…she wants us round for tea on Friday. She said she's got some new recipes she wants to try out."

Harry looked up.

After all of her children had finally left home, Molly had become quite restless. It was understandable seeing as how she'd spent over half her life as a fulltime housewife and mother. Of course, she now had Victoire, Teddy, and baby Molly to dote upon but it just wasn't the same. With an empty home, Molly had thrown herself into her cooking and she and Andromeda were thinking of starting their own business – maybe a café or a catering company. Arthur secretly liked to call it "The Grandma Club" but he was one hundred percent supportive – after all, it kept his wife busy and away from his shed of muggle tools and appliances.

Food at The Burrow was always delicious, but still…_Friday_.

"I'm sorry Gin, but I can't," he said. "I have plans on Friday."

"You always have plans on Friday," she said, looking sour. "If I didn't trust you so much I'd be worried you were having an affair."

"Oh, no," he said, shaking his head, "believe me, it's nothing like that."

"But you're up to something. What's so important that everything else can take a backseat?"

Harry bit his lip and looked down at the wooden table.

He'd been meeting Snape for over two months and still he hadn't told anyone. His reasons? He'd wanted a secret, something of his own; he'd wanted Snape to trust him and so had kept quiet about his whereabouts; he hadn't wanted to hear what his friends had to say on the matter for surely they would be against it. And what if they had wanted to come along? Harry was pretty sure that Snape would be angry if he brought his friends with him to ogle the Professor as if he was some poor creature in a zoo. But mostly it had been instinct – when he had first decided to stay quiet about his meetings with Snape, none of that had entered his mind. He simply hadn't wanted to tell anyone – the rest of his reasons were merely excuses that had formed in his mind at a later date.

But if Ginny had affairs and mischief on her mind…

"I've been meeting Snape," he said, looking back up at her. Her eyes grew wide.

"Professor Snape?" she asked. Harry nodded. "But…why?"

"I don't know, Gin," he sighed. "I just bumped into him one day and decided I wanted a few answers. He's actually a decent guy once you get to know him."

"I don't understand. You hate him."

"I haven't said a bad word about him in five years," he pointed out. "He's a hero, Gin, you know that. He went through Hell, not able to live his life the way he wanted."

Her eyes narrowed as her lips thinned. "And what about Fred and George?" she demanded. "Look what he did to them!"

"The Death Eaters wanted him to kill George! In cursing off his ear he made it look like he'd missed."

"Shame he didn't do the same for Fred then!" she shouted.

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. Some of the Weasleys – George, Ron, and Ginny in particular – blamed Snape for the death of their brother. At first, Harry had been sympathetic and had put it down to grief. When it had become apparent that the blame was going to stick, however, Harry had done his best to explain that Snape had had nothing to do with it – he hadn't been the one to blast down the wall; he hadn't even been in the grounds, but in the Shack with Voldemort. It didn't matter though; in their eyes, Snape had been the one lying to them and if they had only known the truth, known what Snape and Dumbledore had been up to, then Fred's death could have been prevented. Harry had pointed out that they still would have ended up fighting a battle, the wall still would have collapsed, but they had only listened half heartedly.

"Ginny," he said slowly, "he didn't kill him. It wasn't his fault."

"But he didn't do anything to stop it, did he?" she snapped.

"How could he have done? There were spells flying all over the place!"

She folded her arms and turned her face away from Harry, quietly seething. Harry thought it best to leave her alone. He got up and went over to the cooker to check on the pie and chips. They looked a little overdone, but still very much edible, so he pulled them out with the oven glove, cut the pie in half, and served.

Neither of them spoke again for a good ten minutes. By the time Ginny had calmed down enough to continue the conversation, Harry had almost finished his meal.

"So Snape is more important then dinner with my family?"

Harry fought from groaning his frustration.

"It's not that," he assured her. "It's just Snape and I meet every Friday, it's our thing now, and you know how I hate cancelling."

"You don't seem to mind cancelling on me and my parents," she said coolly.

"I'm not cancelling," he told her. "I already had arrangements with Snape. They were made first."

"So we're never allowed to do anything on Fridays? You know, you could try and be more accommodating. Don't you think my family is more important right now, seeing as how they're going to be your in-laws?"

"Look," he snapped, slamming down his fork, "I'm trying, OK? I'm sorry there's not enough of me to go around but that's just the way life is!"

He glared at her, breathing hard, and she glared back. He was close to losing his temper. Why didn't she understand that Snape was his friend?

He looked away from her quickly and busied himself with tidying his dirty plate away without magic. He strode over to the sink and turned on the taps with a shaky hand.

He felt awful, his body flooded with shame. Why had he snapped at her like that? It wasn't her fault that she wanted him to have a meal with her family. If Harry's parents were here he would have been doing the same, delighting that they were getting on so well with his fiancé. He supposed that was how Ginny felt. Of course, Harry had always gotten on with the Weasleys, but that wasn't the point.

Ginny was his fiancé. She was his priority.

_But Severus…_

He shut off the taps and turned to Ginny. She was still sat at the table, her back to him.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to get angry like that."

When she didn't reply, he walked back over to her. He sat down next to her and stroked a hand through her long hair.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

Slowly, she turned to him with a small smile on her face. He was relieved to see that there weren't any tears – tears from Ginny meant trouble as she had never been one to cry easily.

"I know," she said. She leaned in and gave him a kiss. "I guess we can postpone the dinner. It is Teddy's birthday on the Saturday anyway so it's not like we aren't going to see them."

Something else jolted through Harry.

"Teddy's birthday! I completely forgot!"

Ginny laughed, argument forgotten, and kissed him again before getting to her feet.

"Don't worry," she said. "I've already bought him a toy broomstick and a bag of those glow-in-the-dark fish stickers he loves so much. Like he needs anymore, his room's like a bloody aquarium."

* * *

Friday was the same as ever. After a long day at work, he Apparated to Godric's Hollow and enjoyed wine, conversation, and a meal at Snape's house.

He listened as Snape complained at length about his neighbours, saying how nosy they were and how eager they all were to see Harry again, maybe take a picture or two. In turn, Snape listened to Harry go on about work and how much he missed being one of the normal scarlet clad Aurors instead of the Head – he didn't hate it as such, he just didn't like making all the decisions. Snape assured him he would grow into it and that was that.

Harry and Ginny had made up and everything was pretty much the same as ever. They didn't talk about Snape but they didn't need to – they each knew where the other stood on the matter and that was fine, as long as it didn't cause arguments. As they walked up the garden path, hand in hand, to Andromeda's cottage, Harry felt very much at peace with the world.

He knocked on the door and stood back, waiting. Seconds later, the door swung open and a small, green-haired boy with bright purple eyes smiled up at them.

"Uncle Harry!" he cried in excitement, flinging himself at the older man.

Harry laughed and bent down to pull his godson into a hug.

"Happy Birthday, Teddy," he said. "How old are you now? Nineteen? Twenty?"

Ted laughed and wriggled round so he could look up at Harry.

"I'm five," he said happily, holding up his hand.

"Five? Wow, you're tall for your age," Harry said, staring down at the small boy who didn't even reach his stomach. He'd always been quite small but they liked to humour him.

Teddy laughed again. "It's all vegetables Grandma feeds me. She says if I eat sprouts I will sprout up!" And he reached for Harry's hand and led him into the house.

The living room was decorated with cards and banners and the floor was littered with wrapping paper. As Ginny handed Teddy his presents, Harry saw Andromeda hurrying towards them.

"Harry, love, how are you?" she beamed, giving him a quick hug.

"I'm good," he smiled. "But you look a little rushed off your feet. Can I help with anything?"

"That's OK," she said, brushing her dark hair out of her eyes, "Molly, Fleur, and I have everything under control. Arthur was here a minute ago, I don't know where he's stuck off to though…messing around with those bloody muggle contraptions no doubt – oh, Teddy, look at that!" she exclaimed brightly as Ted unwrapped his present. "Your very own broomstick!"

"Thank you Uncle Harry! Thank you Auntie Ginny!"

"That's no problem at all," Ginny said, giving him a kiss on the head.

As Andromeda scuttled back off to the kitchen, Harry and Ginny followed Teddy out into the back garden where all the other guests were seated. Chairs were scattered all over the place as well as tables that were crammed full of party food; there were crisps, sausage rolls, slices of pizza, quiches, chocolate biscuits, jelly, ice-cream, marshmallows, sandwiches, chicken drumsticks, icing-covered doughnuts, fairy cakes, and, at the back, carrot sticks, celery, and sprouts.

Harry rolled his eyes and went over to greet everyone.

Bill looked healthy despite his scaring, as did George without his ear, which his long hair now covered. Percy was sat in the corner next to his wife who was cradling their baby and Ron and Hermione were stood next to them, lost in conversation. A few of the neighbours were dotted around the garden as their children ran around, stuffing their faces with food.

After he'd done the rounds, he sat down in one of the many chairs provided and popped a biscuit into his mouth. After a few moments, Ron and Hermione joined him.

"It's been over a month since I've seen you," Hermione complained at once, dropping into a seat next to him. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he said, smiling at her. "And how are you? You're looking very lovely. Is that a new dress?"

Hermione beamed at him before turning to hit Ron on the arm.

"See?" she said, "Harry noticed!"

Harry ginned over her head at Ron, who sunk into his chair.

"Uncle Harry, Uncle Harry!"

Harry looked round, once more, and saw a small, silvery-blonde haired girl wearing a sparkly pink dress running towards him.

"Hello, Victoire," he smiled.

"Do you like my dress?" she asked, giving a twirl. "Mummy got it for me. Grandpa says I look like a muggle princess!"

"You look very lovely," Hermione said with a smile.

"Teddy said I look like a marshmallow," she told them. "He kept throwing them at me before."

"Well, that's boys for you," said Hermione.

"Boys are smelly," Victoire agreed.

"No we're not," said Teddy, coming over to the small group. "You smell of marshmallows."

"I do not."

"You smell of bogey flavoured beans."

"Mummy says I smell like an angel."

"Do not," said Teddy and he stuck his finger up his nose, pulled it out, and pointed it at Victoire.

"Daddy!" she screamed. "Daddy, Teddy's wiping his bogeys on me!"

The rest of the afternoon was spent eating, dancing, and playing party games. Teddy was very happy about all the presents he'd received; he kept getting them out to show everyone and Andromeda kept putting them away so no one would fall over them. They sang 'Happy Birthday' and ate the fish-shaped cake (which, thankfully, tasted like strawberries, sponge, and cream) and as the others were clearing up, Harry took Teddy flying on his new toy broomstick.

By the time they got home, Harry was exhausted. He'd forgotten how much of a handful children could be, especially at parties when they were all hyped up on sugar.

He knew Ginny wanted to become a mother one day, and Harry wasn't opposed to the idea of becoming a father, but right now he was more than happy to just be Teddy's godfather and let that be practice enough. There would be plenty of time to think about babies once he was married.

And so he snuggled into his pillow and drifted off to sleep, his mind soaring in the clouds above as he flew through the sky on his broomstick. But then the broom disappeared and he suddenly found himself in Snape's arms as they glided over the sea, effortlessly, weightlessly, and when he woke up the next morning he had no memory of dreaming.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews. The next update may take longer than usual as I'm going to France for my birthday. I'll try my best to get it posted before I go though.

xx


	6. The Ball

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Six: The Ball**

It was that time of year again. The skies were clear, the flowers in bloom, and half of Wizarding Britain was making its way to Hogwarts for the memorial service that was to be held in honour of those lost during the war.

It was a morning that seemed to stand still, perhaps because the battle was still so fresh in people's minds, even after five years, especially for those directly involved. Harry still felt a stab of rage every time he remembered how the fight had been left to mainly students and teachers, how little help they'd received from the outside…this was a war that had been fought by many young and unqualified witches and wizards…what kind of world left its battles to teenagers? Only at the end had help arrived.

Previously, when Harry had thought of memorials, he'd thought of the ones the muggles held on November 11th, where poppies were worn and church services were held. But this…this felt like a funeral. People dressed in their finest black robes would turn up to lay flowers at the base of the marble monument, would sob away into their handkerchiefs as if the burial was happening all over again. Kingsley would lead everyone in a minutes' silence before reading a speech, one he'd prepared himself, before another silence would ensue, this one of anguish.

Molly would be in floods of tears whilst her family stood around her, strong and supportive. Andromeda would stand motionless, not a tear in sight. Daughter, husband, son-in-law…all gone. Not to mention the sister, Bellatrix, whom Harry was sure no one missed yet was nonetheless painful, if only because she had killed Tonks.

Meanwhile, Teddy would hold tight to Harry's hand, knowing his parents were war heroes but not really sure what to think. He'd be on his best behaviour though and wouldn't even ask for an ice-cream until they got home.

Work was always cancelled on May 2nd. After the memorial, the afternoons were always just as slow, always spent at a friend's house. They would eat and talk, remembering the ones lost. Molly would pull herself together and would dig out her family photo album and, eventually, laughs would be had.

By the time evening arrived, spirits would be immensely cheered. The Charity Ball would be held at the Ministry and everyone would turn up in bright colours with smiles on their faces. They would eat, drink, and dance and, once more, time would prove to be a great healer.

Today, however, Harry did things slightly different. He didn't go back to The Burrow after the memorial. He went to Snape's.

* * *

There was a knock on the door and Severus grumbled, marking his page in the book he'd been reading; _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ by George Orwell – a muggle story, but a fascinating read; it reminded him a lot of the corruption within their own Ministry during the war, a war which had ended five years ago today.

Dumbledore, thankfully, wasn't in his portrait. Every year he'd tried to persuade him to attend the memorial service, and every year Severus had refused. He didn't have anyone to pay his respects to, and even if he had he would never do it in such an organised way. No, the best place for him on days like today was at home with a book.

Another knock sounded on the door. Severus got to his feet and crossed the room in strides. What loathsome human being could possibly be disturbing him? No one ever knocked on his door except Harry but he was busy all day, something which Severus hadn't been all too pleased to hear – it was a Friday after all.

Putting his best scowl in place, which wasn't at all hard, he swung open the door.

"Hi!"

Harry stood on his doorstep, dressed in black robes and a smile.

"What are you doing here?" Severus asked, frowning. "Aren't you supposed to be off mourning?"

Harry stepped around him, into the house, and Severus caught a faint whiff of cologne. He shut the door.

"I wanted to see if you were OK," Harry said, looking at him.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you know…Dumbledore…" He trailed off, glancing at the portrait. Severus pushed passed him and took the seat he'd just vacated.

"I assure you," he said, "I'm perfectly fine. It _has_ been five years."

"Six," said Harry, sitting down.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's been six since Dumbledore," he said.

Severus considered him for a moment but didn't say anything. That Harry would skip lunch with his friends to come here, and on today of all days, was quite thoughtful. Severus wasn't used to dealing with such behaviour.

And maybe there _was_ an ache where Dumbledore's absence was concerned; an ache for the loss of a man who had given him friendship and trust. He'd never really noticed just how much comfort he'd gotten out of that friendship until it was too late, until it was gone. And now to have Harry Potter offer a hand, a shoulder even…

Keenly aware of the silence, he picked up his book, wanting to keep his hands busy. He flicked through its pages and bent back a corner.

"It doesn't change anything," he said finally. "I'm still fine."

He wasn't fine, but it was entirely his own fault.

"Are you coming to the ball this evening?" Harry asked.

Severus gave him an incredulous look. "Why, in Merlin's name, would I do such a thing?"

"Because it's for charity," he said. "And because I'm asking you to."

"_Charity_," he said with a snort. "Yes, of course. You know I can't resist a good charity event."

"It's for a good cause," Harry told him.

"A good cause?" he repeated. "What is it this time? Helping reformed Death Eaters? Please don't tell me it's for the people made homeless by the war because I know for a fact there aren't any left. Wonderful thing magic; builds homes in a heartbeat."

"Yeah, and they cost a fortune as well," Harry pointed out.

"Whatever," said Severus, waving it aside. "The point is, there _aren't_ any homeless people in our world. So what's it for that could _possibly_ be worth it?"

"Schools," said Harry.

"We already have a school, and a rather fine one I might add."

"It's for Primary Schools."

"Primary Schools?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling now. "You know, somewhere for magical kids to go before Hogwarts, somewhere where they can learn the basics."

"Such as?"

"Maths, English, Geography…"

"But aren't children homeschooled up until the age of 11?" Severus asked.

"Exactly!" he said. "Think how much time parents would be given."

"And this is what's supposed to make me want to go to the ball?" he asked. "Schools? Potter, I'm not going."

"But why not? Forget that it's for charity," he said. "Haven't you been hiding away long enough?"

"Hiding?" The word struck a cord and he slammed his book down and glared at Harry. "I have _not_ been hiding, Potter! I have been getting on with my life!"

"Oh, come on, Severus!" he said, fixing him with a cynical look. "You write under an alias. You communicate with work via owl. You're not even registered as living here! Please," he said, before Severus could reply, "I'd really like for you to come. I know there are people who would love to see you."

"I'm sure," Severus grunted.

"There are!" Harry assured him. "McGonagall and Sprout and everyone! They'll be there tonight and I know they'd love to talk to you."

"And what about everyone else?" he said. "All the others who think I should be locked up or dead?"

Harry stared at him, his expression almost amused. Severus felt the urge to throttle him.

"You mean you care?" said Harry. "You, Severus Snape, actually care what people think of you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "I simply don't want to cause trouble."

It was the truth. Sort of. He _didn't_ care what they thought of him, but it _did_ annoy him that they all thought horrible things without giving a single thought as to what Severus had been through. What made them all think they had the right to judge? Therefore showing up at a party would, most likely, cause trouble.

"You won't," said Harry. "Really," he added when Severus looked dubious. "Look. It's at the Ministry and it starts at 7. It's formal wear. The buffet's free but you'll need money for the bar."

"I'm not going, Potter," he said again. He picked up his book and flicked it open to the bookmarked page.

"Well," said Harry, "if you change your mind…" He got to his feet and headed for the door. Severus tried to focus his eyes on the words in front of him. He heard the door click open. When it didn't close, however, he looked up.

"I'd really like it if you were there," Harry said, and he looked sincere. "I know a lot of people would. I think it'd be good for you to see them again."

With a small smile, Harry stepped outside and the door closed.

_I think it'd be good for you_…How dare Potter assume what was good for him! As if he knew anything at all about Severus! _Haven't you been hiding away long enough_? Ha! This wasn't hiding! This was how he lived his life.

He was suddenly reminded of one of the many reasons why he'd hated Potter at Hogwarts – he always thought he knew best; despite a lack of knowledge, understanding, and experience, he always believed his way was the best way. And just look at all the messes _that_ had led to!

Severus preferred being alone. Sure, it got tiresome, and there were days when he craved the company of others, but that's what Fridays were for; Harry Potter, his conversation fix. Just because he enjoyed it didn't mean he wanted more, and a ball at the Ministry was very much out of his comfort zone.

And yet…the idea of seeing people he'd once called 'friends' was a very appealing one. Minerva, Pomona, Filius, Poppy…It couldn't hurt, could it? Maybe he if just stayed for half an hour and made arrangements to meet them elsewhere at a later date?

And Harry wanted him to go. Why on earth _that_ entered into all of this he didn't know, but for some reason it just seemed important. Maybe he wanted to shut the brat up? Prove to him that he could do this, that he wasn't hiding away? Well, he was Severus Snape and, _damn it_, he wasn't afraid of a silly, little ball!

* * *

The moment polite introductions were out of the way, Harry headed straight for the buffet table. He'd skipped lunch and his stomach was growling. It was still quite early in the evening but already the Atrium seemed full. All over, people were sat eating or stood talking, the mood a complete contrast to that of the morning.

Ginny joined him in the queue and together they loaded their plates with chicken legs and sausage rolls, crisps and dip, before heading for one of the many tables that stood around the hall. They sat down and ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, listening to the noise around them.

So far he hadn't seen Severus. His insides squirmed slightly as he thought back to their conversation earlier in the day. Snape had seemed quite uncomfortable – he hadn't meant to make the man feel uneasy; he'd wanted to help him, to encourage him to get out more, to show him that the world wasn't his enemy. He'd thought he'd been doing the right thing but Severus had grown quite annoyed at him. Maybe he actually liked living in solitude? Or maybe he just didn't like admitting how much he hated it. Whatever the reason, Harry hadn't meant to push.

He tried to put it to the back of his mind. He wanted to enjoy himself tonight. As much as he hated Ministry functions, the Charity Ball was something he looked forward to – for starters, there was a point to it. And it wasn't just for Ministry employees and their partners either; it was open to everyone, including children.

"Ron, Hermione, over here!"

Harry looked up at the sound of Ginny's voice. Ron and Hermione had just stepped out of the fireplace and were making their way over towards them.

"My round," said Ron, looking over at the bar. "What do you guys want?"

They gave him their orders and he disappeared into the growing crowd as Hermione sat down.

"I like your robes," she said to Ginny. "Are they new?"

"Yes," she said, adjusting them slightly to show them off, "Harry got them for me yesterday. The finest money can buy."

Hermione grinned at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

By the time Ron had rejoined them with the drinks, music had begun to play. These events always started the evening with classical numbers for the more experienced dancers, or elder couples, to dance to, although there were always a few people clumsily waltzing their way around the floor.

Harry pushed his now empty plate aside and took the drink Ron handed to him.

"George should be here in a bit," Ron said, taking his seat next to Hermione. "He said he's bringing a date."

"I didn't know he was seeing someone," said Ginny, looking at her brother.

"Neither did I," said Ron. "Apparently he's been dating her for a few weeks now."

As Ron and Ginny continued gossiping about what various family members were up to, Harry's thoughts strayed from the conversation. McGonagall and some of the other teachers were amongst those on the dance floor, stepping and twirling gracefully as if it was something they did everyday. Hagrid was over by the fireplaces talking to Aberforth, and a flash of green flames alerted Harry to the entrance of Molly and Arthur.

Would Severus turn up? Harry hoped so. He hadn't been lying when he'd said there were people who would love to see him.

It was strange to think that he was friends with Severus Snape, yet Harry thought it made complete sense. Who else alive knew of the things Severus had gone through during his childhood, or of how friendships and events at Hogwarts had shaped his life? Harry understood, could even relate to a few things.

In a way he _did_ feel guilty for all the things he'd once accused Snape of, but that wasn't why he wanted to be friends with the man. At first he'd been simply curious, and then he'd wanted to help – Snape, so brave and strong, had seemed quite lost and vulnerable. But now, almost three months down the line, Harry actually enjoyed Severus' company. He was completely different to his other friends, different to anyone he'd ever known, and there was something in that that Harry found very comforting.

"Harry?"

He looked up, almost surprised, and saw Ginny staring at him.

"What are you smiling at?" she asked, bemused.

Harry shrugged and downed the rest of his drink.

"You wanna dance?" he asked her, getting to his feet. She smiled and nodded and he led her out onto the dance floor.

It was a waltz. Luckily, Bill had taught him and Ron the steps a couple of years ago and so Harry was able to pull off an acceptable performance before the music died down and a faster, more modern track began to play. They were joined by Ron and Hermione as more people got up to dance and it was a good twenty minutes before they decided to take their seats again.

By now their table was almost full. Molly and Arthur had joined them along with Bill, Fleur, and Victoire, Andromeda and Teddy, and George and his date, who turned out to be Harry's old Gryffindor teammate Angelina Johnson.

"But…but you used to date Fred," said Ron, staring at Angelina.

Harry excused himself to the buffet table and loaded his plate once more, and by the time he returned to the group, all arguments seemed to have been settled – that was, until Ginny turned and said, in a rather nasty voice, "What the hell is _he_ doing here?"

The eleven of them followed her gaze over to one of the Apparition points. There, in plain black robes, hair as greasy as ever, stood Severus Snape. It was a few seconds before he caught sight of them all staring and when he did he narrowed his eyes, sneered, and made his way over to where McGonagall was currently sitting. Harry was pleased to see that she literally welcomed him with open arms. He snickered at the look on Severus' face.

"Well?" demanded Ginny, turning to look at Harry.

"Well what?" he asked. He was glad to see that most of the table looked happy to see Snape; Molly had already toddled off to greet him.

"Why is he here?" she asked. "Did you invite him? Couldn't you bear to miss one of your precious Friday meetings?"

"Meetings?" said Ron. "What meetings?"

"I don't believe you, Harry," she went on. "It's the anniversary of the end of the war and you bring him here, of all places! After what he did, after he attacked George!"

"How many times, Gin?" he sighed, annoyed. "A Death Eater was aiming for Remus, Snape aimed for the Death Eater, he missed and hit George. By hitting his ear he made it look like a failed attack. It was an accident."

"He's right Ginny," said George. "Just leave it, yeah?"

"How can you say that?" she asked angrily. "What about Fred?"

George shook his head. "He wasn't involved in that."

"You're singing a different tune," she said. "You used to hate him for it."

"I was angry back then," he told her sadly. "It was easy to blame Snape."

"Well, I don't care what you say," she said, turning to glare at Snape, who was now greeting Professor Sprout; "He's a horrible human being. You and I are having words when we get home," she added to Harry. Harry ignored her and led Hermione out onto the dance floor.

By the time midnight came, people were starting to head home. Those with young children had already left and the place suddenly seemed considerably emptier, although there were still over a hundred people in attendance.

Ginny was still in a mood. Harry was ignoring it. Experience had taught him that that was the best way to deal with it. She wouldn't dance with Harry and that was perfectly fine.

He'd received a bit of a lecture from Ron and Hermione for not telling them about his meetings with Snape. Hermione was proud of him for making such an effort to extend the hand of friendship. Ron, however, thought he was crazy; like his sister, he still had issues with Snape, although he wasn't angry at Harry for inviting him to the party.

Snape, meanwhile, had spent the evening on the other side of the hall. He'd been surrounded by old friends and colleagues all night so Harry hadn't had the chance to talk to him yet. He was pleased that things had worked out well though; Dumbledore wouldn't have wanted Severus to shut himself away and neither did Harry. Perhaps now Severus could start living the life he wanted, and not the one he'd ended up with.

* * *

As his eyes followed Harry across the hall, Severus saw his chance. Getting up from the table he'd been occupying with his former colleagues, he announced that he was going to get the next round of drinks. He weaved his way through the small crowd of people and headed for the bar. At the sound of his approach, the young man turned.

"You came," Harry smiled at him; he looked tired, but joyful nonetheless.

"I did," Severus replied, with a small smile of his own.

"And are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.

_Yes_, Severus thought, but he couldn't tell Harry that – he wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

He averted his eyes and gazed, uninterested, around the busy room.

"It's bearable I suppose," he answered, sighing. His efforts were in vain, however – the obnoxious grin on Harry's face said it all.

"I told you they'd be happy to see you," he said, bumping his shoulder playfully against Severus'.

"Is this the part where you gloat?" he asked, tersely.

"Not at all," Harry replied. "I'm happy for you."

He looked at Harry, who was smiling brightly, and momentarily felt a rush of gratitude. Loath though he was to admit it, getting out and coming here, seeing his old friends, had been quite a pleasant experience. He never would have even considered attending the Charity Ball had it not been for Harry's persuading. It was the sort of thing Albus would have done.

And yet, thankfully, Harry was far from being Albus.

The rush of gratitude he'd felt disappeared. A sharp pain rose swiftly in its place. Despite everything, despite all the secrets and manipulation, Albus Dumbledore had been one of two people close to Severus' heart. He regretted a lot in his life, but losing Lily and Albus without fully appreciating what a friendship meant was always going to haunt him.

More to cover up for the silence than anything else, he glanced over his shoulder and nodded in the direction of the Weasleys.

"Your wife doesn't seem overly pleased to see me," he said, looking at the redhead; she currently had her back to them but Severus had caught her glaring at him more than once that night.

"Fiancé," Harry corrected. "And yeah, she's…well, she has some issues. I've tried talking to her but…" He waved a hand vaguely and gave a small shrug. "So, are we still on for next Friday?"

"I have no other plans."

"Great," Harry said happily, then he looked at Severus and faltered, adding in a rush; "I mean, it's great that you're _free_, not great that you have no plans. Well, of course it's good that you have no plans because that means you're free to meet me." Severus raised an eyebrow. "But if you _did_ have plans, well, I wouldn't be angry because that would mean you were happy. Not that you're not happy if you don't have plans. I was only asking in case you'd arranged to meet one of the teachers or something. I wouldn't mind if you were."

He looked at Severus (who had both eyebrows raised by now and was watching Harry with a bemused expression) and smiled weakly.

"Well, I guess I'll see you next week," he murmured, and he turned and made to head back to his table.

"Harry," Severus called after him.

Harry spun round. "Yeah?"

"Your drink," he said.

"Hm?"

"I assumed, seeing as how you were standing at the bar, that you wished to purchase a drink."

"Oh! Oh yeah."

He made his way back towards Severus, stumbling slightly over his own feet. By the time he reached the bar a light flush had found its way into his face.

Severus smirked.

* * *

**A/N:** So sorry about the wait. I was so sure I'd have it ready before I went on holiday. Thanks for being patient. "The Hardest Thing of All" should be updated this weekend, I just need to put some final touches to it.


	7. Dangerous Roads

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Dangerous Roads**

Harry threw his hands up over his head and ducked behind a parked car just in time; the fiery red beam shot right passed him and blasted a hole in a nearby lamppost. The post groaned and teetered ominously for a few seconds before falling and crashing to the ground with a loud, shattering smash. The screams and cries of the people in the street combined with the whirring sirens of the police cars were enough to drive anyone crazy and for a moment – just for a moment – Harry clamped his hands to his ears and closed his eyes – this was _not_ how he had intended to spend his Sunday afternoon.

He snapped open his eyes and took a deep breath. He gripped his wand tightly in his right hand and peered out from behind the vehicle. A flash of green light shot towards him and he quickly withdrew once more.

Ok, time to think. He looked about the street, his eyes surveying all the possible hiding places. He couldn't stay where he was – for a start, the men who were firing at him had seen him duck down. And cars were highly flammable when filled with petrol. One wrong spell and boom! His only hope was that these men, whoever they were, were ignorant of all things muggle.

Tires screeched to a stop, doors slammed, and the deep, barking voice of a police officer demanded the men to put down their weapons. Harry groaned. This was going to take some serious cleaning up.

Taking aim underneath the car, Harry shot a leg locker curse at one of the men. It worked and he fell to the ground, but a moment later his accomplice had freed him and both were advancing on the surrounding police.

Harry crawled around to the other side of the car, trying to keep the feet of the men in sight beneath the vehicle. He clutched his wand and readied a spell in his head.

"Thank God for Obliviators," he muttered, before jumping out from behind the car and firing a stunning spell. It missed by inches and the two men whirled round just as guns went off. Reacting almost instantly, Harry vanished the bullets, shot another stunning spell, and ducked back down behind the car.

A series of cracks behind him almost made him jump out of his skin and for a heart-pounding split second he was sure it was all over – the police had snuck up on him with orders to kill – but facing him, ducking down behind the car with him, were his Auror colleagues.

"Do you ever go anywhere without causing a scene?" Ron said, grinning.

"Oh, you know me," he answered, "I love all the drama. Cant get enough of it."

"Are there any causalities?" another Auror, Samuel, asked.

"Not yet," Harry replied. "But if we want to bring those men in alive then I suggest we get rid of the police."

"Or at least their guns," said Ron, peering around the corner. "I think I can Accio them from here…"

They never got a chance to find out. The guns went off again, screams were heard, and Harry and the other Aurors had no choice but to leap out from behind their hiding place. Samuel and three others went for the police whilst Harry, Ron, and the other two engaged the men in a duel.

Harry fired spell after spell, jumping out of the way every now and then when one was fired back. For all their brutality, these men didn't have much of an aim and the four of them soon had them disarmed, bound, and ready for arrest.

Over by the police, however, things were a different story. Naturally, the police had refused to cooperate (who would when faced with people who had appeared out of thin air and carried sticks that shot out beams of destructive light?) and all the Aurors efforts were going into defensive spells.

"Lydia, you stay here and make sure these don't escape," Harry said to one of the Aurors. "Ron, Karen, come with me."

Together the three of them raced down the noisy street, each casting shield charms to avoid the bullets that suddenly flew at them. Once they'd reached their colleagues they quickly combined their shields and Harry and Ron disarmed the police, their guns flying through the air towards them. More screams, more guns pulled out from belts to be disarmed once more. A loud, roaring sound could be heard from overhead and an amplified voice told them to surrender and drop their weapons.

"They've got a helichopper," said Ron, looking up as their robes flapped around them.

"I thought it was called a helicopter," said Samuel, also looking up as the men in the flying machine took aim.

"No, no, it's definitely a helichopper. My dad knows his muggle stuff."

"This really isn't the time for this," said Harry, intensifying his shield. He turned to the other Aurors. "Karen, I want you to go back to Lydia and get those men to the Ministry. Then I want you both to come back with a team of Obliviators. The rest of you, on the count of three, I want to Apparate into that park. You see it? We'll be out of the way and can keep on eye on the goings on until everything's sorted. OK? One, two, three!"

* * *

"Let me guess – you were ambushed."

Ginny, holding what looked like some sort of pie, looked over at him as he entered the kitchen.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

"It's already been on the wireless," she said, nodding at the little wooden radio that sat in the corner. "But not a whisper of it on the muggle news. Well done."

Harry sighed heavily and dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. It had taken hours to round up all the witnesses and have the Obliviators modify their memories. Even now, Harry was sure some of them had gotten away. The police had been a nightmare and in the end the Obliviators had had to do their job from a safe distance away.

The interrogation of the new men, however, had turned out to be a lot easier than he'd thought it would be. He'd been prepared for the long haul, for asking questions and receiving nothing but sarcasm, for being forced to resort to Veritaserum , but no. It turned out that the men had been Imperiused by none other than Davidson and McCulloch, the two suspects from the Creswell case. It seemed they were getting desperate if they were forcing people to take out the Head Auror. Not that this information helped – they were still none the closer to actually finding these men.

Ginny placed a cup of tea in front of him on the table and Harry smiled at her gratefully. It was only as he watched her head back across the kitchen that he realised something; she was dressed up – she was wearing a long, flowing black dress and her red hair hung in loose curls down to small of her back.

Harry felt his eyes grow wide. They'd had reservations tonight! They were meant to be going out!

"Shit, Gin, I'm so sorry," he said, getting up and following her. "I completely forgot. And I wouldn't have been able to anyway, what with all that stuff going on and…" He ran a hand through his hair, but Ginny just smiled at him, cupped his cheek, and gave him a kiss.

"Don't worry about it," she said softly. "I understand. I'm just glad you're alright."

"But you were really looking forward to it."

"We can have a night in," she replied. "That can be just as good. See? I'm making your favourite."

She turned and lifted her wand. Three bananas flew at her and started slicing themselves up, falling neatly into place on top of the pie she'd placed on top of the kitchen counter. Harry looked over her shoulder.

"Is that Banoffee Pie?" he asked.

"Yep," she said, gathering up the fallen banana skins.

"But Gin, my favourite's –"

"I know," she cut across, "But we had no apples so you're going to have to make do."

Harry laughed and spun her around so that she was facing him. She smiled at him and leaned in for a kiss, soft and unhurried. When they pulled away, Ginny looked up at him, stroking a strand of hair out of his eyes with a soft hand.

"I love you, you know that?" Harry said quietly, holding her close to him.

"Hmm."

They both fell silent for a few minutes, just enjoying the company of the other. Ginny's hands circled his waist and she lay her head against his shoulder with a sigh. Harry kissed her hair and ran a hand down her back.

"Are you OK?" he asked. He felt her grow suddenly tense. "Hey, what's wrong?" he said, pulling out of the hug to look at her.

She bit her lip, considering. She removed her hands from Harry's waist and turned her back.

"It's…it's Snape," she said with an obvious effort.

"Oh, Gin, not again, please," he groaned. "This really is too much."

"No," she said quickly, turning. "No, it's not that. It's…well…" She paused and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, OK? I'm sorry I said those things about him. I'm sorry about the way I was at the Ball."

It had been a week since the Ball and even though Ginny had threatened that they would be "having words" about the incident, neither of them had mentioned Snape since that night. Harry thought it a lost cause and, well, it really was an argument they could do without having. He hadn't dared broach the matter in case Ginny flew off the rail and he was so fed up of having the same conversation over and over, never getting anywhere.

"What's brought this on?" he asked, leaning against the sideboard, feeling a touch suspicious but doing his best to not let it show.

"Hermione," she said quietly. She lifted her hands and started twirling her hair around her fingers nervously. Harry waited for her to continue. Were they finally about to put this behind them? Talking to Snape was so refreshing and he'd hate to have to give that up to make Ginny happy.

"We had a chat during the week," she went on, "and she made me realise a few things. For a start, I'm 21 years old and I still hold a grudge against Snape for something he didn't even do."

"Finally caught on?"

"Even Ron doesn't hold it against him anymore," she said dismally. "But I lost a brother Harry, a brother I was very close to. You must understand why I felt that way, after everything Snape did."

"You mean like risking his own life?" he said wryly.

"Please don't take that tone with me Harry," said Ginny, looking hurt. "I'm trying to apologise."

Harry flushed a little and folded his arms across his chest.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Go on."

"I…well just don't expect me to become friends with him. And don't expect me to invite him around for dinner either."

Harry uncrossed his arms and reached out for her hand. "Ginny, that's not what I want. I just don't want you to blame him for Fred's death, that's all. It's perfectly fine with me if you don't want to forgive him for the way he was at school, but when it comes to the Death Eater stuff then –"

"I know," she said again, nodding seriously. "I'm trying, I really am. I won't argue about him anymore, I promise. I love you, Harry. We're getting married. If you want to be friends with Snape then…well, I'm just going to have to accept that aren't I? I don't want him, of all people, to come between us."

He moved closer to her and took hold of her other hand. "He won't," he said softly. "I promise you that. You're the most important thing in my life."

A blush rose in her cheeks and she smiled brightly at him before allowing herself to be pulled into a hug. When she broke away, the smile was still there.

"So," she said, with the very obvious air of changing the subject – not that Harry minded, "How about we just skip dessert and go straight to the bedroom for the main course?"

Harry pulled away with a snicker. "That was really cheesy, Gin."

"Hey," she whined, hitting him on the arm, "It took me all evening to think of that line!"

"I can tell," he laughed. "It's incredible, genius – I've never heard anything like it."

"When you've finished making fun of me," she said, stepping around him, "I'll be in the bedroom, wearing nothing but that black bra you love so much." And on that note, she strolled out of the room.

* * *

It was Harry's Monday off work the next day and he spent the entire day lounging around the house with Ginny. They played computer games, watched television, and sang along to the old songs on the radio. They disappeared off to London in the evening and enjoyed a romantic meal under the stars, watched a romantic film in a darkened cinema, and took a romantic stroll down by the river Themes. When they got home, the romance continued in bed.

It was how they'd spent many of their dates after leaving Hogwarts…before Ginny's career, before Harry's promotion. Arguing tended to make Harry forget just how much fun they could have together but he was now sure, more than ever, that he and Ginny were meant to be.

Back to work on Tuesday, and it turned out to be quite an eventful day; two burglaries, five attacks, one kidnap attempt, and a murder, all of which were solved by teatime. Ron had been hit with a nasty hex and would be covered in ugly, green warts for the rest of the month, whilst Harry had had to make a trip to the hospital to get his toes reattached. But that was the sort of thing you expected in this line of work and so Harry had hobbled off home for an evening of relaxation.

Wednesday wasn't as exciting as the day before, but the prospect of watching Ginny in her match against Madrid that evening kept him going all day. It had been so long since he'd seen her play that it was actually quite shameful. Tonight her team would be competing in their first match since they'd qualified for the European Championships and all the family would be there, cheering her on. Harry already had his Harpies hat and scarf stowed away safely in his desk drawer.

After leaving Hogwarts, numerous Quidditch teams had approached him, offering him the place of Seeker. Even if he hadn't had his heart set on being an Auror he still would have declined – Quidditch was a hobby, something he enjoyed with his friends; he loved it but he couldn't imagine playing fulltime. All those strict training programmes, all that publicity – it was too much and it took the joy out of the game.

But Ginny was different. She handled it all so well. And she enjoyed it, which was the main thing. He didn't know what she'd do when they decided to have children.

Children. He looked at his watch. It was 6:15pm and he was sat in his office thinking about children. They hadn't even started planning the wedding yet!

"One thing at a time, Harry," he told himself, "One thing at a time."

He stood up and started to gather together the various files and documents littered on his desk. The only down side about being Head Auror was all the paperwork! If he had to sign another damn form explaining why such-and-such a person couldn't come in to work because they'd sprouted wings, he'd go crazy.

He'd just bent down to retrieve his Quidditch hat and scarf when there was an explosion of voices in the other room. Shouts, heavy boots pounding on the floor, and his door swung open.

It was Jeremy, his assistant, and he looked quite out of breath, pink blotches colouring his pale cheeks.

"Sir!" he said, panting. "Sir, we just got a report – Davidson is in Trafalgar Square. He's rounded all the muggles up and taken them hostage."

"Oh, for the love of…! Right," he said loudly, striding out of his office and into the large room. "Jeremy, alert Kingsley. He's going to have to let the Prime Minister know as soon as possible so we don't have any interference from the police again. Aurors, grab your muggle uniforms and Apparate to Charing Cross. Obliviators, I want you patrolling the crowds, turning away as many people as you can. Where's Robards?"

"He knocked off early," said Ron. "Went to the match."

"The things you can get away with when you're Head of Department," said Samuel, shrugging on a jacket. "He wants bringing down a peg or two."

"And he will be if we finally put an end to this case," said Harry, already thinking of the look on his boss's face. "Right, you all ready? Good. Let's get going."

* * *

A very frayed, very singed, but nonetheless a very pleased looking Harry collapsed into an armchair in the living room. He didn't care that his back felt covered in bruises, he didn't care that his face was marred with scratches – he didn't even care about the faint burning smell that was coming from his hair – he'd done it. They had done it. The Aurors had finally put an end to the Creswell murder case. How? He wasn't entirely sure. He'd passed out and woken up in hospital twenty minutes later. But at least he'd managed to save the hostages before he'd been hit – that definitely had to count for something!

He was so happy, so relieved. But the house was so quiet, and he was on such a high from finally putting those two criminals behind bars. He couldn't wait to hear what Robards had to say in the morning – the Head of Magical Law hadn't stopped breathing down his neck since the case had opened. But now it was done, finished, he'd proved himself worthy of being Head Auror (he'd only been hit because he'd jumped in front of Ron!)…and he had no one to celebrate with. He was here, at home, alone. Wasn't life just typical?

He sighed and reached for the phone, punching in Hermione's mobile number. He supposed it was best to get this out of the way before he decided on anything.

She picked up after five rings. He could hear an almighty noise in the background.

"Hey, it's me," he said into the phone.

"Harry, where've you been?" she shouted over the cheering. "You've missed the match!"

"It's finished already?" Damn. "Is Ginny angry with me?"

"Well, that depends," she said.

"On what?"

"On what your excuse is. Ron didn't show up either."

"Yeah, I know, it was a work thing," he explained. "We finally caught those guys we've been after."

"That's fantastic!"

"Yeah, well, I doubt Ginny will see it that way."

"Oh, I'm sure she'll understand. You had a solid reason. Just make sure you congratulate her when she gets home – they won by 60 points thanks to Ginny catching the snitch!"

"You're not making this any easier, Hermione."

Harry heard her laugh. "I'm sorry," she said, "But it was a really good game. Oh, I'm going to have to let you go now, Ginny wants me. We're going to a party! Isn't that great? I've never been to a Quidditch party before! Are you going to join us?"

"Nah," he said, getting up. "I think I'll just stay here and let these injuries heal."

"I'll see you sometime in the week then?"

"Definitely. See you later."

"Bye Harry!"

He put the phone down. He crossed the room and looked out of the window. He really _should_ stay at home…but Ginny wouldn't be back until morning…and it had been _such_ an evening…

Snape would appreciate the company. He smiled and grabbed his coat.

* * *

"I've brought pizza!"

"And wine," Severus noticed with approval. Then his eyes caught sight of the state of the grinning maniac on his doorstep. "What in Merlin's name happened to you?"

"We caught the bad guys!" Harry replied, with far too much enthusiasm. He sidestepped Severus and stood, beaming, by the sofa. Severus shut the door and followed him, taking in Harry's torn jacket, cut cheeks, and missing half-eyebrow.

"Drink?" Harry asked, holding out the bottle of red wine.

"I'll fetch the glasses."

They sat for almost an hour, eating the delicious vegetable pizza and drinking the sweet red wine at a steady pace. Harry talked at length about his heroic save ("and there was this great big whooshing sound and a flash of light and I dived in front of Ron and saved the silly sod – he'd been stood there talking about helichoppers again!"), not so much regaling, but bemusing Severus with his tales of evil men, missing body parts, and the slave driver that was his boss, Gawain Robards.

"Why do I get the feeling you're making it sound a lot more dramatic than it actually was?" Severus said with a slight smirk, reaching for the wine bottle; he refilled both their glasses and settled back down next to Harry. "Weren't you unconscious for most of it, Mr. Head Auror?"

"That's not the point," Harry replied, taking a sip of his drink. He lay his head back against the sofa and looked over at Severus. "Why don't you become an Auror?" he asked.

Severus snorted. Then he saw the look on the other man's face. "You're serious?" he said, disbelievingly.

"Why not?" Harry gave a shrug. "You know all your stuff already and you're an excellent dueller. I doubt Kingsley would mind. He likes you."

Severus shook his head with a small smile. "People like me don't become Aurors, Harry. And besides, I've never really wanted to anyway."

"But I thought everyone wanted to be an Auror at some point. It's like the wizarding equivalent to the muggle 'when I grow up I want to be a fireman or an astronaut.'"

"I've honestly never given it any thought."

Harry gave a great, heaving sigh and brought his legs up onto the sofa. He took another healthy sip of wine and sat back, regarding Severus.

"Would you go back to teaching," he asked after a while, "if given the chance?"

"Minerva already asked me," he replied. "My answer was no."

"S'pose that makes sense. You never did seem to enjoy it."

"The teaching I didn't mind," he told him, "It was the idiot students I couldn't abide."

"Hey, I wasn't…" Harry started to say, but Severus shot him one of his looks. "Ok, maybe I was. But I'm not anymore, right?"

Severus took a swallow of his drink and nodded. "True, you are no longer a student."

"I meant no longer an idiot!" he complained, kicking Severus in the thigh.

Severus laughed and downed the rest of his drink.

Even though he wouldn't have admitted it (even under pain of death!) he was glad that Harry had turned up. He immensely enjoyed their meetings on Fridays but sometimes a few hours a week just wasn't enough. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he found himself rather addicted to Harry's personality. His presence was very much a welcome change and he was bringing out sides to Severus that had long ago been buried.

Sometimes it was hard for him to believe that he'd been so suspicious of Harry a few months ago – he'd felt so sure that he was Potter's new project; befriend an ex-Death Eater and win a lifetime supply of admiration! But Harry had enough admiration to be getting on with and, well, he really _was_ turning out to be a nice person. And as much as Severus' instincts told him to be cautious, he really didn't want to lose another friend. He wasn't a great believer in fate, but if Albus were here he'd be saying, with that damn twinkle in his eye, _"My boy, you've been given a second chance."_

He turned to look at Harry, who was sipping the last of his wine. He couldn't help but wonder why he was here with Snape when he had a beautiful fiancé at home. Trouble in paradise?

"D'you think one day you could take me flying?" Harry said suddenly, staring into his empty glass.

"You have a broomstick. Use it."

"No, no I meant…you know…with you. Flying. Proper flying." He turned to gaze at Severus, almost shyly.

Severus grunted, but he knew the amusement didn't reach his eyes. The very idea of flying with Harry suddenly seemed quite appealing. He never enjoyed it alone. Maybe sharing it with someone would erase the Dark Lord's stamp on it?

"What?" he said. "Be the Lois to my Superman?"

Harry laughed softly. "Not quite," he smiled. "But something like that, yeah. I've been thinking about it and I don't believe you when you say it's unnatural."

That _did_ amuse Severus. "Why am I not surprised? You never did believe anything that came out of my mouth."

"That's not true!" Harry protested. "I learnt a lot from you."

He gave Harry a sceptical look. "Like?"

"Like…potions and things," he giggled.

"You never paid attention in class and you know it!"

"But I paid attention to the Half Blood Prince," he said. "And tha' was you." He jabbed a finger in Severus' chest.

Severus smirked and took the empty glass from Harry's hand. "I think you've had too much wine, Mr. Potter. You're slurring your words."

"Only half a bottle. That's the same as you."

"No," he said, "You did, in fact, have three quarters."

Harry gave another giggle and Severus couldn't help but find it quite adorable.

"Well that makes sense. I'm celebrating."

"Celebrating what?"

"Catching the bad guys!" he said, eyes lit up. He paused. "You're one of my best friends, you know that?"

"I do now."

"I'm glad I found you."

"Me too."

Harry beamed at him.

And then Severus did something which was both incredibly brave and incredibly stupid. Some time during the conversation, Harry had wriggled closer to him – so close that Severus could smell the alcohol on his breath. Harry felt so warm against his arm, such a comfortable weight.

He closed the gap between them and pressed his lips to Harry's. Slowly, softly, he began to move them and when he felt Harry respond, return the kiss just as lovingly, sweet, long-lost, sensations shot through his body, lighting fire in every nerve.

His hand came up to cup Harry's cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so gently across the newly scarred flesh. He felt Harry's tongue at his lips and he opened them, a moan escaping him, loving the taste of it, the taste of someone, right there, that tongue caressing his…

And then it was over and he found himself staring up at a very red faced, very angry Harry Potter.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted, glaring down at Severus with so much loathing in his eyes.

Severus felt a weight drop into his stomach.

"I…don't…we've been drinking…"

"You don't kiss someone because you've been drinking! How dare you!"

"Harry –"

"Just leave me alone!"

The windows rattled as he slammed the door, leaving Severus feeling very much like a fool.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm so sorry! Really I am! It's been a lot longer that usual and I hate myself for it. lol I seem to spend my life apologising! Reasons are on my profile. I hope you all don't hate me too much - it's a long chapter so I hope that makes up for it. You all have permission to throw eggs at me.

Quick question though - "fiancé" - when using it to refer to a girl, does it have one "e" or two? I looked it up and it said two, but I've never seen it used that way before.

Sorry, sorry, sorry!

Review to show I'm forgiven? Please? Love you all!

xx


	8. Crossed Wires

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Crossed Wires**

_Why?_ That was the question that had been pounding the inside of his skull. _Why?_ His body felt alive with the very question as every inch of him tried to come up with a good enough answer. He'd kissed Harry Potter. But for the love of God, _why?_

He stared at the wine glass on the table, the empty bottle next to it glinting in the evening sunlight falling through the window. It was rather hard to believe that just five minutes ago he had been laughing and chatting, enjoying himself. It was disturbing how fast a moment could be shattered.

Why had he kissed Harry? What was wrong with him? A friendship wasn't something to be gambled with, so why had he thrown away so much in such a short space of time?

Harry had been his friend, the friend he had thought he hadn't wanted, but desperately needed. He'd given up his time, gone out of his way, just to make sure Severus wasn't alone, that he had someone he could talk to.

Well, so much for that. He'd royally screwed up this time. He'd never appreciated Lily like he should have, and he'd never appreciated Albus. And now it looked like he'd appreciated Harry a little _too_ much. He'd be lucky if Potter ever breathed in his direction again.

But why? That question still remained unanswered. Why had he done it? Potter was an attractive bloke, but Severus wasn't attracted _to_ him, not really – he wasn't his type. He usually went for…well, for people in his own league, for a start. For people who didn't have muscles and a tan. For people who weren't hero-worshipped by the masses. For people who weren't voted _Witch Weekly's_ "Most Fanciable Wizard."

So why the kiss?

Severus put his head in his hands and sighed. Just thinking about it was causing an uneasy amount of embarrassment to flood through him and Severus Snape didn't take well to being embarrassed. But Merlin, he'd brought this on himself and he knew it!

There was no point in trying to fool himself. The fact was, in those moments leading up to the kiss, Severus had found himself irresistibly drawn towards Harry. And – and this was perhaps the most mortifying thing of all – he'd actually believed that Harry had been attracted to him. Imagine! And when their lips had touched and Harry had responded…what did that mean?

For the first time in years Severus had felt wanted, but was he really that out of practice that he'd mistaken the other man's kindness for something more? Friendship didn't mean "ownership" or "relationship" – friendship simply meant what it meant and he'd do bloody well to remember that!

It suddenly occurred to him that he wasn't entirely sure what he was mourning; the ruin of a friendship, or the realisation that nothing could come of it?

Whatever it was, he had to fix things. No matter how much his instinct told him to hide away and let it go, he wasn't prepared to lose yet another friend because of his own selfishness. He'd promised himself he wasn't going to ruin things this time.

And, well, really…it wasn't _that_ serious. A kiss was, after all, just a kiss. It hadn't meant anything other than a few crossed wires. Surely Harry was reasonable enough to see that?

But would Severus really be content with just friendship and nothing more?

* * *

Harry swirled the cold water around his mouth for the fifth time before spitting it out into the sink and shutting off the tap. His wiped his mouth roughly with the back of his hand and stood, breathing heavily, staring at the edge of the mirror. His eyes refused to meet his reflection.

A horrible, squirming knot had formed in the pit of his stomach and he was shaking all over. He was angry, disgusted, and ashamed and he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, nor what emotion to deal with first. His mind was stuck on "replay" and every time he remembered the feel of those lips, his cheeks would burn bright red, eyes shutting tightly.

He groaned and slipped down to the floor, his back firmly against the side of the bath.

He'd kissed a man. That man was Snape. He'd had his tongue in Snape's mouth. That was wrong on so many levels! He was engaged. And if he hadn't have been engaged, that didn't matter because he wasn't even gay! And if he _had_ been gay, well, that wouldn't have mattered either because it was Snape!

What on earth had made Snape think he could kiss him? Had he been giving out some sort of signals? He was fairly certain he hadn't. But then Snape was, apparently, gay. Were gay signals somehow different? He'd hate to think he'd been leading him on.

But even so, Harry was an engaged man and Snape knew that! Was this some sort of game to him? Get close enough to Harry to ruin his life? Was this payback for all those things Snape had ever held against him?

Snape had kissed him! Sitting here, even now, Harry could barely believe it. And no matter what was going on in Snape's mind – whether it was a game or whether he truly liked Harry – Snape had _no right_ to put Harry in this position! What was he to do now? Carry on seeing Snape, pretending it had never happened?

Did a kiss count as cheating? God, he hoped not. It would break his heart to think that he'd cheated on Ginny.

As he sat there on the bathroom floor, his anger slowly ebbing away, he realised that what he felt more than anything was guilt. For reasons he couldn't explain, he felt it was somehow _his_ fault that Snape had kissed him. And that wasn't all. He cringed at the realisation but there was no hiding from it – he'd kissed Snape back!

It was a perfectly normal reaction, he tried to tell himself. It didn't mean he didn't like Ginny, it just meant that it was a nice kiss. And he'd had over half of that bottle of wine which probably meant he hadn't been entirely himself. Yes, of course, that was it! And Snape had taken advantage!

So why didn't that thought make him as angry as it should have?

* * *

When Harry returned home from work on Thursday evening, a very ecstatic Ginny greeted him. She leapt into his arms and covered him in kisses before settling down to tell him all about the match. Harry didn't much care to hear how Rhiannon had saved ten goals in a row, or how Caryl, one of the chasers, had been knocked off her broom by one of Madrid's beaters, only to land on Mary's broom beneath her and score a goal, but he'd been so grateful at having something other than "the kiss" to occupy his mind that he'd joined in with her enthusiasm, asking questions, and promising that he'd be at the next match, no matter what.

When Friday morning rolled around, Harry had woken up feeling incredibly nervous. The very thought of going to see Snape was such a daunting one that he'd phoned up Ginny's favourite restaurant and made reservations for the evening. He hadn't even bothered trying to convince himself that he wasn't avoiding Snape, because he was. He just didn't know what he would do if he saw the other man. He still didn't know why Snape had kissed him and he was embarrassed about having kissed back. More than anything, he just wished the whole situation was something he could sweep under the carpet and say no more about.

So he went to dinner with Ginny that Friday evening and they spent the whole of Saturday and Sunday with Andromeda and Teddy, taking trips to the beaches further south and making the most of the gorgeous sunny weather. When it was time to go back to work on Monday morning, Harry felt a lot easier. He knew he'd have to talk to Snape eventually, but for now it seemed to be safely out of the way, leaving Harry to concentrate on other things. Like the call-out he got the moment he stepped foot in his office.

"It's that nutter again," Ron complained as they both approached the Apparition Points.

"Which one?" asked Harry, reaching for his wand.

"You know the one. Tall geezer, long beard, couldn't cast a decent stunning spell if you offered him all the gold in the world. Thinks he's the next Dark Lord."

"Ah," said Harry. "Good, old Mr. Winterbottom. Well, I'll see you there," he added to Ron and he disapparated, reappearing seconds later in Diagon Alley.

The tiny street was bustling with people but a crowd seemed to be gathering outside of Ollivander's. Making their way over, they pushed through the door. A tall, neatly dressed man with a large, bushy beard was tied up in a corner. Mr. Ollivander stood over him, looking frail but smug as he held his wand pointed at the man on the floor.

Ron grinned and shook his head. "Not again, Mr. Winterbottom," he said. "I'm beginning to think you like the food in Azkaban."

"Alright, Weasley? How's your Dad doing?"

"Same as ever," Ron replied. "How's your Megan?"

"Grand. She's just had another baby, she has. I'm a dad again!"

"Has she now? Well, I don't think she'll be best pleased when she hears you've been arrested again." Ron looked at Harry. "You want to do the honours this time?"

Harry rolled his eyes and stepped forwards, hooking his arms around and pulling him to his feet. Mr. Winterbottom's eyes went wide and his mouth opened.

"You're Harry Potter! I'm being arrest by Harry Potter! Wait 'til I tell the kids, they won't believe it! Can I have an autograph? And maybe a photo, to show 'em all back at home? This'll be somethin' to tell the grandkids! I can't believe it, Harry Potter…"

* * *

"For the fifth time, will you please stop laughing? It wasn't _that_ funny."

Ron wiped a tear from his eye and grinned at Harry.

"The look on your face," he laughed. "No, the look on _his_ face, like all his Christmases had come at once! Bless him."

Harry sighed and headed across the busy Atrium, nodding here and there at people he knew. It wasn't the first time someone had been delighted to find themselves being arrested by Harry Potter. In fact, quite a few people had committed a crime just for that very reason. Apparently, the novelty had yet to wear off.

"Poor Mr. Winterbottom though," he said, thinking of the man now locked in a Ministry holding cell. "That family of his is making him insane."

"Tell me about it," said Ron, still chortling. "If his wife has anymore kids, there'll be no room in the house for him!"

They walked through the double doors and clambered into a lift. As they waited for it to start its ascent, the smell of cooking food reached their noses.

"I could murder a bacon butty," Ron said wistfully, staring off towards the canteen. "Hermione didn't make me one this morning. She had to be in work early."

"Couldn't you have made one yourself?" Harry asked, as the lift shuddered and began moving.

"Not the way Hermione does it," he replied. "She does it the muggle way and I'll tell you now…once you've tasted her food you won't want to go anywhere else. Unless it's my mum's of course – nothing beats her cooking, not even Hogwarts and their food was amazing. And the food here isn't so bad either. Oh, and that little café down the road. And that restaurant we went to last week – what was it called? McDonna's?"

"McDonald's."

"Yeah, that's the one! Bloody good hamburgers there. But still, Hermione's bacon butties…"

Harry laughed and shook his head, wondering at his friend. "OK," he said, "Well, let me just have a quick word with Jeremy and we can head down for something to eat."

They got off the lift at the correct floor and they both headed down the corridor and into the large, main room. As Ron perched on the edge of his desk, Harry strolled over towards his own office where his assistant, Jeremy, sat outside.

"You're back early," Jeremy said brightly as he caught sight of Harry. "I was expecting you to be gone longer."

"The suspect was surprisingly cooperative," he replied. "Could you get me his file please? I need to add this to his list of previous convictions."

"Of course, Sir, right away."

"Thanks. If you could leave it on my desk for me, that'd be great."

He smiled at the blonde haired man and made his way back across the room. He was just following Ron back out of the room and into the corridor when he heard running footsteps behind him.

"Mr. Potter, Sir, wait!"

It was Jeremy again and he turned to see the young man skid to a halt in front of him.

"I almost forgot. A man was in here before, he said he needed to see you."

"I don't have any appointments do I?" Harry asked, suddenly fearing the wrath of his boss should he miss an important meeting.

"No Sir. He just turned up. Said his name was Severus Snape and that I was to tell you to contact him as soon as possible. It sounded urgent."

Harry stared. His whole body had become alert at the name "Severus Snape." For a few hours, he'd completely forgotten about him, but now the whole sorry issue had returned full force. _Snape had been here?_

"Oh," he said, praying he sounded nonchalant. "Did he say what he wanted to see me about?"

"No," said Jeremy. "But may I suggest that you get in touch with him, and soon? He said if you didn't then he'd spell off my manly bits and give me a cat's tail."

Ron grunted but didn't say anything.

Harry frowned.

"I'm sure it won't come to that," he assured Jeremy, who was looking slightly worried. He thanked him and watched him scurry back into the Aurors' room. Harry turned and continued towards the lifts again.

"Snape?" said Ron, bewildered. "What's the greasy git doing here?"

"He probably just needed help with some work he was doing," Harry said, trying to think fast as his mind threatened to go blank.

"Snape? Ask for help? What planet are you living on, mate?" He hit the button that would take them back down to the Atrium and the lift began to descend.

Harry was determined not to let his nerves get the better of him, but he wasn't quite sure what to make of all this. It was fairly obvious what Snape wanted to talk about, but was he angry at Harry for missing last Friday? He'd have to be to turn up at his work place. By avoiding him, had Harry made things worse? What if he told someone about the kiss in a bid to get even?

When they reached Level 8, Harry followed Ron into the canteen. He didn't join him in the queue though as he'd rather lost his appetite, and so he waited at an empty table for Ron, who appeared minutes later with a tray crammed with food.

"Ah," he moaned, biting into a bacon butty. "Heaven. Bloody Heaven." He looked at Harry. "You not eating?"

"I'm not hungry," he replied. "So…you up to anything this weekend?"

"Not that I know of, but you know what Hermione's like. She likes to spring things on me at the last minute so I can't wriggle out of it. Why? You have a plan?"

"The pub? On Friday maybe?"

Ron paused as he went for another bite of his food. He narrowed his eyes.

"Have you and Snape had a falling out?"

Harry's pulse quickened. "No, of course not. What gives you that idea?"

"Well, I know I'm not the brightest tool in the cupboard…" (Harry raised both eyebrows but refrained from comment) "…but it's almost like you've been avoiding him lately. Dinner with Ginny? Pub with me? Seriously, mate, what's he done? I won't say 'I told you so', I promise."

Harry forced himself to laugh. "It's nothing like that, Ron," he told him, leaning forwards and stealing a bacon butty from his friend's plate. "I had dinner with Ginny because she's my fiancée and I love her, and I want to go for a drink with you because you're my best mate and my future brother-in-law and I just thought it'd be nice to spend more time together, away from work, away from women. Just the lads. We could invite Sam and Gawain and the guys."

"You hate Sam and Gawain and the guys," Ron said.

"No I don't."

"You do!"

"Don't."

"You do in office hours," Ron affirmed.

"That's because they're incompetent," Harry explained.

Ron snickered. "You sounded like Snape then."

"Snape? Is that all you can think about? I swear, Ron, you have a one track mind."

"Oi!"

* * *

Harry went through the rest of the week on eggshells, terrified that Snape would turn up at any moment and demand to speak to him. Despite repeated urging from Jeremy, he absolutely refused to contact Snape, not even to save his assistant's manly bits. He wasn't sure why he was so scared; all he knew was that he wasn't ready to find out what the kiss had meant, if anything. He was being a coward but he didn't really give a damn!

Friday came and went and Saturday morning saw Harry nursing a hangover. The pub idea had been scrapped; instead he, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, along with George and Angelina, had gone to a nightclub in London, dancing and drinking away their youth before marriage and babies came along. Harry had woken up tired, sick, and feeling as though he'd had the time of his life.

Sunday was spent at The Burrow, where they all enjoyed a nice Sunday dinner and a game of Quidditch in the field beyond the garden. Harry had floo'd home with Andromeda and Teddy and had read his little godson a bedtime story before returning to London and snuggling up in front on the TV with Ginny.

All in all it had been an enjoyable, stress-free weekend and when he returned to work on Monday he was in high spirits.

He should have had the sense to realise it couldn't last. However, oblivious as he was, he didn't even stop to think about unresolved issues that were lurking about. At least, not until he opened his office door at work and stepped into his room anyway.

"Mr. Potter. Lovely office you have here."

A shock went through Harry's body at the sound of that smooth voice and he stopped in his tracks, one hand still on the door handle. He stared at the man, a deer caught in the headlights.

Snape was sat behind Harry's desk, leaning back in his chair. His arms were extended, hands grasped together on top of the desk. He had on high collared, long black robes and there was a glint of triumph sparkling in his dark eyes. This was very much Professor Snape.

Harry gulped and quickly averted his eyes. He remembered that the door was still open and he hurried to shut it.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, once the sound of the other room had been dulled.

"You've been avoiding me."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Harry heard a slight chuckle in the man's voice. "You're even avoiding eye contact with me. Guilty conscience?"

Harry lifted his head determinedly and met Snape's gaze. He quivered as the eyes bore into his.

"I have nothing to feel guilty about," he said. "You're the one who came on to me."

Snape gave a snort. "Don't flatter yourself Potter."

"But you did! You – " He stopped suddenly and pulled out his wand. He gave it a wave and a silencing charm went up. "You kissed me," he finished. "And what made you think you could just show up here anyway? What if people start talking, did you think of that? What if they get suspicious?"

Snape looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, although Harry swore he could see a smirk forming on that pale face.

"What reason would they have to be suspicious? You really _do_ have a guilty conscience, don't you?"

"No I do not," he said through his teeth. "You kissed me!"

"You kissed me back."

"Stop being so childish!"

Suddenly, Snape withdrew is arms from the desk and he sat up in the chair. He fixed Harry with a glare.

"Do _not_ talk to me about childish games, Potter. If you want an example of childish, take a very close look at yourself! How long has it been since I last saw you? Eleven days? You're a coward, Potter."

"I've been busy. I do have a life, you know."

"You've been avoiding me because you're scared."

"Scared? There's nothing to be scared of," he replied loudly. He returned Snape's glare and sat down opposite. "Is this why you're here? To shout and make fun of me?"

Snape gave him a dirty look, though it looked half-hearted. He didn't say anything and his eyes slowly left Harry and gazed about the room.

"Why'd you kiss me?" Harry asked abruptly. He immediately regretted it when Snape's eyes snapped back to him.

"I was acting on impulse," said Snape. "I apologise."

Harry starred at him. Was that it? After all this fussing, that was it? It was as if a great weight had been lifted, so much so that he was floating to the sky.

"Some impulse," Harry snorted. He was quiet, and then he looked sideways at Snape. "I've never kissed a guy before."

This time, Snape really did smirk. "You have now."

Harry rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. Then he uncrossed them and began to fidget with the edge of the desk.

"So…are you one of those gays?"

Snape gave an amused grunt. "If this conversation wasn't so incredibly tedious, I'd be feeling incredibly insulted right now."

"I didn't mean anything by it," Harry said quickly. "I'm fine with gay people. Really. One of my friends is gay. He's an Auror."

Snape shook his head and sighed. "Potter," he said. "I'm not here to tease you. I'm here to apologise for my actions. I'm sorry if I offended you by kissing you – "

"You didn't," he assured him.

" – But like I said, it was an impulsive, spur-of-the-moment thing. It was mistake."

"No, really, it's OK," Harry said. "I was just worried that you were attracted to me or something."

"Like I said," Snape smirked, "Don't flatter yourself."

Harry smiled shyly. "Right. OK. Sorry." He lowered his head and began fidgeting again. He hated that after all these years, Snape still made him nervous. He felt like a foolish schoolboy all over again.

"So…are we cool?" he asked, trying to gain back a piece of the adult in him before he went to bits.

"I suppose," Snape drawled. "Friday, at 8 o'clock? My place?"

Harry smiled. "See you then."

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry for not answering any questions. For some reason I can't read my email - everytime I try, the page crashes. Really, me and computers just don't mix!

Thank you for solving the "fiancé", "fiancée" situation lol. And thank you for reviewing. "The Hardest Thing of All" WILL be updated, I promise. I haven't left it.

Please review! xx


	9. No Turning Back

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

**

* * *

**

Chapter Nine: No Turning Back

"Afternoon, my beautiful Minions," George greeted them merrily, collapsing into a chair and throwing his legs up on the table. "Who's buying?"

"Get your feet off the table, you git," said Ron, shoving hard at George's dragonhide boots.

"Now, Ron, is that really any way to talk to your favourite brother?"

"Charlie's my favourite," Ron replied smugly.

"Is he now? Well then, I'm sure you won't mind _too_ much if I cross you off my party guest list then."

"What you on about? You're not even having a party."

"I could have been," said George, with a wide smile. "And you, little bro, wouldn't have been invited."

"Oh, for the love of…" Ginny rolled her eyes. "Someone get the bloke a drink and shut him up."

Hermione laughed as she got to her feet. "My round?"

It was a late, sunny, Wednesday afternoon and a group of them had agreed to meet in Diagon Alley for a drink after work. The sky was a lovely, clear blue and there wasn't a cloud in sight. A calming, delicate breeze gently rustled the leaves of the trees and pink blossoms rained down on the heads of the people who strolled by. It was such a cool, relaxing day…and one that was being completely wasted on Harry and his friends, who were currently stuck in a dark, noisy pub, gathered around a rickety, wooden table.

Oh, what he wouldn't have given to be outside on a day like this. It had been such a slow day at work; he'd spent hours locked in his office, with nothing more than a great, big stack of reports to keep him busy. He wanted to be out _there_, enjoying the sunshine and getting some fresh air. His friends, however, wanted to be in _here_, chatting and getting tipsy.

They could have compromised, Harry thought, and gone to a muggle pub where they could sit outside, but he hadn't wanted to mention it as Ron had seemed rather keen on getting a couple of Ogden's best down his throat, and Neville quite eager to just sit and ogle the new blonde barmaid. Such was life, he figured.

"You'll never guess who I had in the shop today," said George, breaking Harry out of his musings. "Aberforth! You know, he's _still_ trying to get McGonagall to go on a date with him! I told him, I said, 'Abe, mate. You're not gonna win old McGonagall's heart by playing practical jokes on her. She hasn't got a sense of humour.' But he wasn't having any of it and I ended up selling him a 24-hour WonderWitch love potion, a box of Wild-Fire Whiz-Bang fireworks, a fake wand, and a bunch of Canary Creams."

"Sound's like he has quite the night planned," Ron commented. "He's such a romantic."

"Poor McGonagall," Ginny sympathised.

"Hey, guys?" They looked up at the sound of Hermione's voice. She approached the table and set the tray of drinks down carefully. "Don't all look at once," she said, taking her seat again, "but the new barmaid…isn't that Hannah Abbott?"

They all turned at once.

"Guys!" Hermione whined.

They ignored her and focused on the blonde woman stood at the furthest end of the bar. Probably sensing their stares, she looked up from the pint she was pouring. Her pink, rosy cheeks grew bright and she waved over at them.

"Yeah," sighed Neville, as the rest of them waved back. "She started working here last week."

"Is that how long you've been sat there, staring?" Ginny teased. Neville went red.

"Aww," cooed George. He reached out a hand and ruffled Neville's hair. "Someone's got a little crush, I see. Why don't you ask her out?"

"I couldn't do that!" He paused, worrying his bottom lip, and looked over at the bar. "What if she says no?" he asked nervously.

George wiggled his eyebrows. "What if she says yes?"

"N-no…I couldn't. She wouldn't be interested in me anyway."

"Well, you'll never know until you try," encouraged Hermione.

"But what do I say?" he asked them. "And if she says yes, what do I do? I don't know anything about going on dates. What if I mess it up?"

"Just relax and be yourself," Harry advised him. "Maybe you could take her out to dinner?"

Neville shook his head. "I'm a fussy eater."

"There's always the old, muggle cliché," said Hermione. "You could take her to the cinema."

"I wouldn't know where to start with that one," he admitted.

"I'll tell you what, Nev," said Ginny. "This lot," – she nodded at the rest of them – "are coming to my game on Saturday. I could get you and Hannah some free tickets."

"And then, of course, there's the after-party," said George, wiggling his eyebrows once more. "All that alcohol, all those dark corners…"

"George!" Hermione smacked him on the arm.

"He's a guy, Hermione," said George. "Us guys only have one thing on our minds. Isn't that right, Ron?" He winked at his brother.

Hermione turned her glare on Ron, who flushed.

"Don't listen to him, 'Mione. We're not all animals like him."

George laughed before nodding in Harry's direction. "At least Harry knows what I'm talking about, don't you mate?"

Ginny looked at him expectantly.

"I have no idea what you're on about, George," he replied calmly. "Sex is the furthest thing from my mind when I think of Ginny."

George laughed again as Ginny gave Harry a playful shove.

"Just wait until I get you home," she threatened.

"Ew, ew, ew!" Ron whined, covering his ears. "That's my sister!"

"You didn't seriously think we weren't doing it, did you?" she said, pulling her drink towards her. She took a gulp and set it back down. "We're getting married. You're going to have to deal with it sooner or later."

"Speaking of which, how's that going?" asked Hermione. "Have you set a date yet?"

Ginny shrugged. "We haven't really given it any thought yet," she told her. "We're not in any rush though."

She exchanged what Harry could only describe as "a look" with Hermione, but before he could give it more than a seconds thought, the conversation switched back to Neville's dating dilemma and soon they were discussing all the different ways he could use to get her interested.

As the evening grew, talk turned to that of their old school friends. Ginny had received a letter from Luna the other day (who was now in China with her boyfriend, Rolf) telling of all the new and wonderful things she had discovered and that her publisher had given her the go-ahead to write another book. Dean Thomas, another of their mutual friends, worked in the Department of Magical Games and Sports and they often saw him at the Ministry or at Quidditch Matches. Seamus, meanwhile, worked in his mother's shop over in Ireland, but had recently put in an application to become an Auror. His training was to begin this coming Autumn.

As for the girls, well, Harry didn't really keep in touch with Parvati and Lavender. He knew from talking with Dean and Neville, however, that Parvati worked in the Children's Ward at St. Mungo's, and Lavender, who had been married twice and had a one year old daughter, worked as a receptionist over at the_ Daily Prophet_ building.

Harry had also heard tell of his old enemies, the Malfoys. Lucius, since leaving prison two years ago (it had been a very short sentence thanks to Harry testifying – Narcissa _had_ saved his life after all) was back in his ancestral home, sitting around, doing nothing, and watching the money roll in from God only knew where. Draco, however, had a job – he worked at the Ministry, in the Department of International Magical Co-operation, along with his girlfriend, Astoria Greengrass. Harry had always avoided that department whenever he could, but it was a lot harder to do now that he was Head Auror, and so whenever he saw Draco they would just nod at each other and walk on. They hadn't exchanged a single word since the day Harry had given him his wand back.

Talk of old friends always depressed Harry, for even though a lot of them were still around, and even though he'd made plenty of new ones since leaving school, it reminded him of the one's he'd lost. Remus and Dumbledore he missed, and Sirius he missed with a passion. Harry was an adult now, with a fiancée and a home and a job, but when things happened, when things got him down, he couldn't help but yearn for someone to talk to, someone impartial, someone who wasn't going to judge him for what he was thinking and feeling.

And that was exactly how he'd been feeling ever since his chat with Snape a couple of days ago.

The fact was, he couldn't get the kiss out of his head. Nothing new there of course – he'd been thinking about it ever since it had happened. But this was different. Last week he'd been angry, worried, embarrassed. Now he was curious.

Snape had said it an been an impulse, the kiss, but the more Harry thought about it, the more he was convinced that there was something more to it, something behind it, something lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to be found. He realised now that what Snape had said just didn't make sense – who kisses someone they don't like on a mere whim?

He was obsessing over this, he knew it, but wouldn't _anyone_ in his position? If someone kissed you – a friend, and of the same sex, no less! – surely you'd want to know why? The _real_ reason why.

And, well, this whole thing…it wasn't exactly something you could easily forget. He'd never been in this situation before, and he'd certainly never expected to!

OK, perhaps "situation" was the wrong word. It _had_ just been a kiss after all, and Snape seemed to have gotten over it pretty quickly. Or, at least, that was how he was acting. But then again, Snape was gay so kissing another male was hardly new territory for him. This was all brand new to Harry. This wasn't like with Cho or with Ginny…well…if you wanted to be picky, he supposed, in a way, it _was_. He hadn't exactly been dating either of those girls when he'd had his first kiss with them…there had been an attraction, yes, but the kiss had sort of been the starting line.

But that was where the similarities ended. This was no starting line. Harry wasn't attracted to Snape. The kiss meant nothing.

But still…a man had _kissed_ him. A _gay_ man.

And he'd kissed back.

God, it was the same argument over and over again, wasn't it? Why couldn't he simply move passed this?

_Because it's a loose end, that's why. A loose end that seriously needs a good knotting._

But why was it a loose end? What did Harry want all of this to amount to? Was he simply overanalysing everything?

Snape had kissed him and he'd kissed back because he'd felt the desire to. It was how he felt when Ginny kissed him. He liked kissing. Kissing back was a natural response. And the kiss with Snape had felt –

Had felt what?

He couldn't remember!

He'd been so worked up over it…and now he couldn't remember what the actual kiss had felt like!

Maybe that was why he was obsessing? Maybe he needed to…_you know_…to set his mind at ease? If he knew for sure that it meant nothing…if he knew that he _felt_ nothing…

And it wouldn't be cheating. _It wouldn't_. It would be…well, he'd just be making sure.

God, it was a crazy idea! But he was obsessed for a reason, surely. And maybe, just maybe…

* * *

"Mr. Potter. You're late."

Harry stood on his doorstep, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. He looked rather anxious as Severus let his eyes trail down his body, taking in the tattered trainers on his feet and the frayed cuffs of his shirt sticking out from the sleeves of his jacket. His hair was as messy as ever, as if a tornado had just passed by, but his bright green eyes shone beautifully behind his glasses.

"Come in, then," he said, standing back from the door. "Make yourself at home."

He gestured towards the living room and as Harry shuffled passed him he caught the scent of cologne. It was different from his usual, Severus noted. Fresher, more subtle.

Subtle. That made him snort. Potter and subtle did _not_ go well together.

He closed the front door and followed Harry into the room. He seated himself next to Harry on the sofa, making sure to leave a comfortable gap between them. There was something about Harry's manner that told Severus to tread carefully.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?"

Harry gave a start and looked at Severus. He shook his head.

"No thank you," he said. "I can't stay long. I have some stuff to do."

A likely story, Severus thought, but he nodded his head all the same. It hurt him to know that Harry had been reduced to making up excuses to cut short their time together. He'd foolishly thought that everything would be alright once they'd had their little chat on Monday. Obviously he'd been wrong.

An awkward silence threatened to fall, so Severus quickly cast around for small talk.

"How was your week?" he asked. "Not too terrible, I hope."

Harry gave a shrug. "It was OK," he said. "How about you?"

"Can't complain," he replied. Well, he _could_ complain, but he wasn't going to.

Harry nodded and fell silent again.

Brilliant. Just bloody brilliant. Congratulations, Severus, on messing up once more! He should have known that Harry wouldn't forgive and forget that easily. It had been two weeks since that kiss but the boy was clearly still on edge about it, afraid that the big bad gay man was going to pounce on him. Was this what their friendship was going to be like from now on?

Harry obviously had no idea how much Severus had beaten himself up over what had happened. Didn't he realise how much their friendship meant to him? He didn't want to regret their kiss – he'd loved the feel of Harry's lips on his – but the cost had been high; a snatch of stolen happiness for this…this awkwardness, this silence.

He sighed inwardly and forced himself to make another effort.

"How's your godson, Ted?" He couldn't believe he'd just asked after a Lupin. But…desperate times and all that…

Harry turned to him again and this time he smiled. "He's great," he told him. "We've been going out on the weekends, you know, to the beaches and cinemas and things."

"It's good that you're spending time with him," Severus replied. "He needs all the family he can get."

Harry shrugged again. "He has all the Weasley's but…I dunno. He's like a son to me. I know he has his grandma, but sometimes I just feel like he's my responsibility, you know? Like I owe it to Remus…"

"I'm sure he'd be proud of you," Severus said.

Harry smiled warmly. "Thank you," he said. "And…I'm sorry. About the way I reacted. To…_you know_."

Severus felt himself relax and he let out a silent breath.

"Forget it," he said to Harry. "I shouldn't have –"

"But I can't," Harry said suddenly. "I can't forget it. It happened and I want to know why."

Severus sat, surprised, staring at Harry. The boy's cheeks were flushed with colour but he looked serious, resolute.

"You know why," he said to him. "I told you, it was –"

"Impulse, I know," Harry interrupted again. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"Well, what do you want me to say, Harry?" he demanded, feeling very defensive all of a sudden. "Shall I perhaps make up some story of how I'm madly in love with you? It was just a kiss, Potter, get over it."

"But it had to mean something!"

"Why? Why does it have to mean something?"

"You don't just kiss someone like that, Snape! I've been over it a thousand times in my head and –"

"You're delusion. You're seeing things that just aren't there!" He pushed himself to his feet and glared down at Harry. "I think you'd better go," he said firmly.

Harry looked at him fiercely, his jaw tight, but he, too, got to his feet. "Fine," he snapped, and he stomped angrily towards the door. Severus's heart sank as he watched Harry reach for the handle. When his hand fastened around it, however, he paused.

Severus waited.

"Well?" he said, when it became clear the boy wasn't going to move. "Are you leaving or not?"

Harry took a deep breath, bracing himself, it seemed, although for what, Severus wasn't sure. All became clear enough, however, when he walked back over to Severus. He looked determined.

He stared Severus right in the eye.

"Kiss me."

OK. So maybe "clear enough" hadn't been the right words to use.

* * *

"I beg your pardon?"

Snape was looking at him as if he'd gone mad, which, when Harry thought about it, was probably true. He had, after all, just strolled up to Snape and demanded that he kiss him. How was that _not_ mad?

But he didn't care. He'd given this a lot of thought – so much thought that he'd given himself a headache. But it was an important decision and therefore it had required time.

He knew what he was doing. He wanted to remember what kissing Snape had felt like. He wanted to know what it meant. For _both_ of them. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could forget about it and have Severus Snape, his friend, back.

"Kiss me," he said again. "Please." Oh, Lord, did he just _beg?_ No, he told himself. He was just asking politely. It was manners.

"Are you insane?" Snape said. "After everything that's happened, you want me to kiss you _again?_"

"Please," he repeated. "I just need…I just need to know something. Don't ask me to explain."

He wished Snape would stop looking at him like that, as if he were crazy. This was difficult enough without having to worry about what Snape thought of him. Was he coming across as desperate, or just plain stupid?

But just as all that was going through his head, Snape's expression softened.

"Potter….," he said, gently, "Harry…I don't want to lose you as a friend. After that first time, you wouldn't speak to me for almost two weeks. I can't do this. I can't."

And suddenly everything dropped into place. His cheeks flamed and he looked away.

"You're right," he said quickly, "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I'm so selfish, asking this of you. I'm sorry. I'll…I'll just go. I promise I won't bring it up again. Sorry."

He finished his stammering and turned towards the door, wanting nothing more than to just disappear. God, this was so _embarrassing!_ He was so ashamed. What the _hell_ had he been _thinking?_ But before he could even take two steps, a strong hand gripped his arm and spun him round. He found himself face to face with Snape.

"Are you sure about this?" Snape's voice was low, almost seductive, and it sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

He gulped. He nodded.

Snape pulled him closer. So close he could feel his breath on his cheek when he spoke.

"You look terrified," he whispered. "And you're shaking."

Harry nodded again. It was all he could do. And then Snape began to lean in.

_Pull away, pull away!_ his mind screamed. But he couldn't. Wouldn't. This had to happen and he had to know.

And suddenly Snape's lips were on his but it wasn't soft and gentle like last time – and Harry remembered that now – but it was rough and hard, and as Snape shoved him against the wall, pinning his body against his own, Harry lost all sense of self.

Snape's tongue was teasing at his lips and he opened them with a moan, welcoming that delicious heat. He returned the kiss with just as much force, wrapping his arms around Snape's neck and fastening his hands tightly in his hair, pulling him closer.

With one hand cupped strongly at the back of Harry's neck, Snape let his other trail the length of Harry's body, coming to rest on the firm buttocks. He gave a squeeze and Harry gasped, his hips jolting forwards and…

…And God, Dear God, he was _hard_. Snape was hard and Harry was hard and Harry wasn't at all sure what to do. He'd never felt another man's cock before, but Snape's was pressing against Harry's hip rather insistently and…_and just breathe, Harry, OK? Just breathe. You wanted this, remember. Just concentrate. You're supposed to…well…something…kissing…_

But just as Harry began to rock his hips, the friction ended, the kiss ended, and Snape pulled away. He was breathing heavily as he lay his head next to Harry's, against the wall.

"Is that what you wanted?" he managed to ask, his eyes fixed on Harry's.

Harry didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to feel. He just stood there and closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing.

"Is that what you wanted?" Snape repeated.

Harry chewed his bottom lip. He opened his eyes and looked at Snape.

"I should go," he said quietly.

The change in Snape's face was instant and if Harry hadn't have been paying such close attention he wouldn't have noticed it at all.

"Harry…"

He pushed away from the wall and opened the front door.

"I'll see you next Friday," he said, and with that he stepped out into the night.

* * *

Severus stared at the closed door long after Harry had gone. He was stunned. He couldn't quite get his head around what had just happened. What _had_ happened?

And Harry wasn't angry. He was coming back. What did that mean? Was he coming back as a friend, now that his "experiment" or whatever it was was over? Or was he coming back for more?

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of such thoughts, but it was hopeless. There was no denying it. He wanted Harry. He wasn't exactly sure _how_ he wanted him – whether it was just for the night, or, indeed, even longer – but he wanted him.

All these years Harry had been right under his nose, getting into trouble and annoying the hell out of him. Who'd have thought things would turn out like this?

Yes, he wanted Harry all right. He'd tasted too much to just let him go. And he wasn't going to mess this up.

"He has a fiancée, Severus." The old, familiar voice came from above the fireplace. He didn't need to turn around to know that Dumbledore's painting had woken up.

"And you're just a portrait, so it's none of your business," he replied, and he headed up the stairs to his bedroom without sparing the old Headmaster a glance.

* * *

**A/N:** Now wasn't that a quick update? Just over a week! I'm so proud of myself lol.

Thank you for all the lovely reviews for this fic and my other ones. I know I said this last week but I just want to reassure readers of "The Hardest Thing of All" that I honestly haven't left it. It's just taking a lot more time than I'd expected it to. I have loads of chapters done on it, but most of them are towards the end lol. Yeah, I work in weird ways. But it WILL be updated and finished, I promise.

Please Review! xx


	10. No Way Out

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Ten: No Way Out**

It happened on Saturday. As Harry stood watching the Holyhead Harpies do a lap of victory around the Quidditch pitch, Ginny looking her beautiful and exuberant self, he realised he'd made a huge mistake.

He'd betrayed her. That gorgeous, amazing woman out there – the one who made him smile in the mornings when he woke up next to her; the one he loved more than anyone and anything; the one who always stood by him, no matter what – he'd betrayed her. There was no use in pretending otherwise. What was the point in telling himself he'd done it "to make sure"? It didn't matter. It didn't count for anything. Facts were facts, and facts were inescapable. He'd left the house on Friday evening and had gone out with the full intention of kissing someone else. There was no sugar-coating it, not now. That second kiss had _not_ been an accident.

What the second kiss _had_ been was good. Better than good. But it was just the kiss he'd liked, not Snape. He'd liked it because it had been new; it had been fresh and exciting and after five years of kissing the same person, "new" was bound to be a turn on.

When Harry had returned home from Snape's yesterday, he'd gone straight to the bathroom. He'd locked the door, turned the shower on, and had proceeded to have one of the best orgasms of his life.

And afterwards, of course, when he'd climbed out of the shower, his cheeks flushed with heat, he'd felt an almost unbearable amount of guilt. His only consolation was that he hadn't thought of Snape – he'd torn off his shirt, yanked down his trousers, and had concentrated solely on the pleasure coursing through his body.

He wasn't going to dwell on it – that had been decided the moment he'd caught his breath. He'd wasted enough time worrying about Snape already. It was a phase, that was all; a phase that had been and gone. It should never have happened in the first place, but at least now it was over. He knew what he wanted.

Ginny made him feel alive. When she smiled, his whole world lit up. When she kissed him, his body tingled. He'd never doubted his love for her, not once. And now that this whole Snape mess was over and done with, it meant he was able to move forwards and get on with his life.

And really, it was much better if he didn't think about it.

He wasn't in denial. How could he be when there was nothing to deny?

* * *

"Thank Merlin that's over," Ginny sighed heavily, flopping down on the sofa next to Harry. She stretched out her arms and perched her feet on the edge of the small table in front of her, looking out through the large glass windows into the other room.

It had been an hour since the match had ended and the Holyhead Harpies had only just managed to escape the numerous fans and reporters that had been gathered outside the Diagon Alley club, awaiting the arrival of the team and party guests. A large majority of people were in the main room, laughing and joking, drinking and dancing, but a few of them (Harry included) had slipped out into the quiet VIP lounge for some peace.

"I hate dealing with reporters," moaned Ginny, resting her head on Harry's shoulder. "After all these years, I still don't understand how you do it."

"Neither do I," he replied, thinking of how he'd ended up using the back entrance to the club in order to avoid all the flashing cameras. "But hey, look on the bright side. At least we get to suffer together."

He grinned at Ginny, who rolled her eyes with a snort and hit him on the arm.

Harry smiled to himself before letting his eyes wander over the other room. From where he was sitting, he could just about make out Neville and Hannah at a table of their own. Their heads were bowed together and they seemed to be deep in conversation, despite the loud music pulsing from the speakers.

Over by the bar, drinks in hand, were Ron and Hermione. Their eyes were fixed on something further away, however, and when Harry searched the room he found George and Angelina in the middle of the dance floor, limbs flying in all sorts of directions.

Harry glanced back at his friends just in time to see Ron frown before turning away. Ron still wasn't comfortable about his brother dating Fred's ex, but there hadn't been any other arguments about it since that first one at the Ball. Harry knew he'd get used to the idea eventually, but for George's sake he hoped it would be soon. It had taken a lot for George to start enjoying life again and he didn't want to see him upset because of Ron's infamous stubborn streak.

Movement next to him pulled him away from his thoughts. He turned to find Ginny gazing at him.

"I was thinking," she started, slowly, "I only have one more match now and then I'm free for two whole weeks. Is it too late to book a holiday?"

He gave her a small smile. "Too late to book the time off work, I'm afraid," he told her. A holiday _was_ very appealing though. Especially if it was somewhere hot and involved Ginny and her black bikini. Alas, they would just have to make do with the beaches over in Cornwall.

"Typical," she sighed, letting her head fall against the sofa. "Any ideas then?"

"I do have something, yeah." He paused, a little hesitant, but she watched him, waiting for him to continue. "Maybe we could use the time to start making arrangements," he said. "You know, for the wedding. What do you think?"

Ginny's eyes went wide but a second later her whole face lit up. She squealed in excitement and flung her arms around Harry's neck.

"Really? Oh, Harry, it'll be perfect! Oh, there's so much to do! The flowers, the catering, the music…and what about a venue?" She pulled away from Harry and held him at arm's length. "Do you have somewhere in mind?"

"Slow down," he laughed. "We haven't even set a date yet."

"How about winter?" she suggested. "I've always dreamt of having a winter wedding. All those fairy lights, all those decorations…it'll be so romantic, don't you think?"

"Next winter?"

She shook her head. "This winter."

"_This_ winter?"

"How does December sound? Around Christmas time?"

"It sounds wonderful, Gin," he said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. "But are you sure six months is enough time to get everything done? You said so yourself, there's an awful lot to do."

"It's plenty," she assured him, beaming. "Oh, Harry, can you imagine how beautiful it's going to be? And how cute will Victoire look as a flower girl? And little Teddy as the ring bearer?" But then, suddenly, she paused and her smile faltered. "You _do_ want to get married this winter, don't you? Because we can do it next year if you'd rather wait."

Harry smiled softly and shook his head. Really, it was quite amusing sometimes to just listen to her go on and on.

"Ginny," he said, and he reached out and took hold of one of her hands. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to give you the perfect wedding day…a perfect start to all the years ahead of us. We could get married in a sewer and I'd still be happy as long as it was what you wanted."

She gave a little giggle at that but her eyes were shining brightly. She pulled Harry into another hug and he held her tightly, loving how her small, feminine frame fit so wonderfully in his arms. Ginny wasn't a fragile person, but sometimes she just felt so delicate.

By the time they broke apart, she was glowing again. The smile stirred something in Harry's stomach and he ran a hand through her soft red hair and caressed her cheek.

"I have to go and find Hermione," she informed him merrily. "I feel like I've just gotten engaged all over again!"

And with a great, big kiss on the lips, she got up and practically bounced out of the room.

Harry sat back with a smile on his face. He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever felt so content.

He'd definitely made the right decision. There wasn't a doubt in his mind.

* * *

Plans were made to start making wedding plans the moment Ginny got back from her next match in Switzerland. As she had yet to even leave, however, they found themselves with almost a whole week to spend in one another's company, most of which (when Harry wasn't working) was spent in bed…or on the sofa…or on the kitchen table…

Making love to Ginny was one of the greatest experiences Harry had ever had, and he'd been through a hell of a lot in his twenty-two years of life. But sex with Ginny was always so passionate. It never failed to set every nerve in his body on fire.

They'd been each other's firsts, and were happily each other's onlys. Everything they did, they'd learnt together. Harry adored the connection he had with her.

And it wasn't just the sex either. They shared so many interests that it was never hard to find something to do. Conversations were rarely dull and there were never any awkward moments between them.

So when she left for Switzerland on Thursday morning, Harry was left with the entire house all to himself and not a clue in the world as to what he could do to occupy his free time. He could handle things just fine when she went away for weekends, but this time she was gone for five whole days. But still, at least he'd have her all to himself for two weeks when she returned, and he was quite looking forward to starting the wedding arrangements – Ron said it was a girl's job, but Harry couldn't wait to get stuck in.

In the meantime, however, he found himself at a temporary loss. His friends were busy with their own lives and the last thing he wanted to do was intrude, although he knew he'd be politely welcomed should he choose to stop by.

Visiting Snape _did_ enter his mind, but he quickly shot down _that_ idea. He was still refusing to acknowledge what had transpired between them and that, he told himself, was for the best. Although…

He still couldn't believe how far he'd let things go. Hard hands, rough lips, prodding erections…

No!

He wasn't going to think about it. _He wasn't!_ It had been a phase. It was over now. End of story.

Now, where was he? Ah, yes. Not giving Snape extra visiting days. Yes, well, Snape was for Fridays and he didn't want to accidentally lead the man on or something by turning up when Ginny was away – that was sure to send out all _sorts_ of messages. Besides, it really was best to stick to the schedule regarding his ex-professor from now on.

And as far as schedules went with Harry, he should have _known_ that they wouldn't stick for long, as was proved when Andromeda showed up on his doorstep with Teddy that Friday evening after work.

The moment he opened the door, he knew he was going to have to cancel on Snape. He hated cancelling, but on this occasion he wasn't entirely sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.

"I'm sorry to have to do this to you, Harry," she said, shuffling through the door and depositing Teddy on the carpet, "But a new client has just gotten in touch at the last minute and he wants a full spread for a party tomorrow – we have to do it, it's good publicity. Anyway, Molly and I are going to be working long into the night."

When Harry just stood there gawping, she added, "For the catering business."

"Oh," said Harry, shaking himself and feeling like an idiot. "Well, that makes a lot more sense than what I was thinking. What you said "client" and "full spread" it sort of sounded like…well…" He trailed off sheepishly as her eyebrows went higher up her forehead, but she gave a tut and laughed.

"Really, Harry, you need to get your mind out of the gutter. You're almost as bad as George. Anyway," she said, handing him a bag, "are you alright watching Teddy? Please say if you're not."

Harry looked down at the bag she'd handed him and then at Teddy, who was stood looking up at him, holding his hand and smiling broadly. She hadn't given him that much of a choice, really.

"Yeah, it's fine," he said, managing to keep the sigh out of his voice. "We'll have fun. Won't we Teddy?" he added to the boy, who nodded.

She smiled at him gratefully and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she said. "And I'll see you," she said, bending down and kissing Teddy, "tomorrow. OK?"

After they'd said goodbye, Harry shut the door and led Teddy into the living room.

"You want something to eat?" he asked the young one. "I think I have some pumpkin pasties in."

"Pizza!"

"I haven't got any –"

"Pizza!"

"Alright, alright, keep your hair on," he said, ruffling Teddy's neon blue hair. "I'll go and order one. What drink do you want?"

After he'd made sure that Teddy was sitting comfortably, he switched the television to the children's channel and went into the kitchen to order their food. Harry had learnt early on that sitting Ted in front of the TV was a good way to keep him distracted. Andromeda, being a pureblood, didn't own such muggle things and the images on the screen never failed to grab Teddy's attention.

After Harry had placed their order with the nearby takeaway, he grabbed a quill from the side and pulled a piece of parchment towards him. It was almost 7pm and he didn't want Snape to think he was avoiding him again.

_Severus,_ he scribbled down;

_I'm sorry, but I can't make it tonight. Andromeda stopped by and I've ended up looking after Teddy for the night. She and Molly are trying to start a catering company and they've just got themselves their first costumer. _

He paused, and reread the note. Then, against his better judgement, he added;

_Maybe we could meet up tomorrow instead, or on Sunday? I have the whole weekend free as Ginny's away with her team until Tuesday._

_Your friend,_

_Harry_

There. That didn't sound like an excuse, did it? He didn't want to make the man paranoid. And, after all, it _was_ the truth. He couldn't exactly do anything about it.

He set the quill aside and went over to Ginny's owl, Freddy, who was perched on his stand by the kitchen window. Harry didn't have an owl of his own. He knew it sounded crazy, but he'd never wanted another one, not after Hedwig had been killed. When he'd been stuck at the Dursley's, Hedwig had been the only one he could talk to. She'd provided company during some of the toughest times of his life and getting another owl just didn't seem right somehow.

He rolled the parchment into a small scroll and summoned a piece of string to him, which he wound tightly around his letter. He fixed the other end to Freddy's leg and reached over to open the window.

"Take this to Severus Snape," he said to the owl. "And don't let him hex you," he added as an afterthought. "I don't know what kind of mood he'll be in after he reads it."

Freddy hooted softly and nipped his finger before taking off through the window and into sky. Harry gave a sigh as he turned back towards the living room. He still wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or not; a part of him had been excited about seeing Snape again. Another part had been absolutely terrified.

* * *

As Harry set aside the empty pizza box, he decided that a quiet evening in with his godson wasn't such a bad thing after all, no matter what he'd had to give up for the opportunity. The little boy was so delightfully curious and when he'd finally tired of the television, he'd bombarded Harry with questions about their family and friends. Harry had ended up getting out one of Ginny's photo albums and they'd spent at least half an hour flicking through pictures of the Weasley's, giggling at the antics of Fred and George and smiling as Grandma Molly waved at them from the pages.

Eventually, of course, Harry's old album had made an appearance. Teddy had seen it dozens of times and could easily point out Remus amongst all the photographic people, but he never tired of it, nor of asking Harry all about him. The fact that their fathers had been friends always seemed to put a smile on Ted's face and he loved it when Harry talked about Sirius and the Marauder's Map, which, he promised, would one day be Teddy's, as long as he didn't tell Grandma!

After an hour of reminiscing had passed, and the summer sky had finally started to grow dark, Harry put away the albums and Teddy trotted over to his bag and pulled out a stack of brightly coloured playing cards. He was just dealing them out between them when there was a knock on the door.

"No cheating," Harry warned Teddy as he got up. Teddy's giggle confirmed Harry's suspicions and he smiled and shook his head, heading for the hall.

Upon opening the door, however, the smile slipped away and he stared in shock at his visitor.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter," the man said, a smirk on his thin lips. "May I come in?"

Harry found his voice.

"Snape? What are you doing here?"

"Since you couldn't come to me, Potter, I decided to come to you. I brought wine." His eyes sparkled as he held out the bottle for Harry. Harry, however, had other things on his mind. Shoving Snape aside, he promptly stuck his head out the doorway, glancing left and right down the street.

"Did anyone see you?" he asked, pulling back to look at Snape.

The smirk on his lips grew and that, coupled with the gleam in his eyes, sent Harry's stomach leapfrogging.

"Relax, Potter," he said. "I'm not your dirty, little secret." He stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him. "At least, not yet," he added in a whisper, and he swept passed Harry into the living room.

Numbly, Harry followed.

"Ah. This must be Ted. How do you do?" Snape extended his hand to Teddy, who shook it shyly. "My name is Severus. I'm a friend of your Uncle Harry's."

"Nice to meet you, Sev'rus," Teddy smiled. "Do you want to play Exploding Snap with me?"

"Certainly."

As the two of them settled down at either ends of the small coffee table, Harry let his feet carry him from the room. He was slightly surprised when he realised he'd entered the kitchen, and for a whole minute he just stood, staring blankly at the fridge.

Eventually he began to register the voices reaching his ears; the laughter of Snape – _laughter!_ – and the cheering of Teddy as the cards exploded.

Slowly, Harry's mind started to pick up speed.

Snape. _Here_. In his house.

He gripped the back of a chair for support as his thoughts whirled around his head.

What was Snape up to? What had he meant by those words?

_I'm not your dirty, little secret. At least, not yet._

Not yet? Not _yet?_ What was he playing at?

Did he think, because of last weeks kiss, that Harry was attracted to him? Or was this something _more_, something different? Harry had a horrible feeling that it was that last one.

But why? Was he trying to make Harry suffer? Was he trying to cause trouble? Was he, perhaps, attempting to blackmail Harry, exchanging his silence for sexual favours?

No. That was just silly. The Snape he knew wasn't like that.

But then, what? He rapidly went through all he could remember of there conversations, but nothing stood out. The only thing Harry could think of was…yes…Snape was attracted to him! And he was doing this for fun. It _amused_ him.

Harry let out a relieved laugh, pushing himself up straight on the chair. Of course Snape wasn't out to get him! They were friends! And Harry probably looked like a right pillock, taking everything so seriously. Snape was teasing him, and here Harry was, almost shitting his pants.

OK, that was an overstatement, but still…what was he to do? Let him down gently? Somehow, though, Harry knew it was passed that stage and he wished he knew why that scared him so much. It wasn't a frightened kind of scared…it was more of the nervous variety…his stomach twisting, his mind in disarray…A part of him actually felt excited at the prospect of…

For the tenth time that week, he found himself stopping that train of thought. It wasn't right. He refused to travel down that road.

Running an unsteady hand through his hair and taking a few, deep breaths, he turned on his heel and marched back into the living room.

"…a whole Sickle," Teddy finished proudly.

"That's quite generous."

"What is?" Harry asked, coming to stand by the sofa.

Teddy looked up at him. "I was just telling Mr. Sev'rus of how the Tooth Fairy gave me a Sickle last week. Seeeee?" He grinned widely at Harry, opening his mouth to show the missing tooth.

"Fantastic," he said to him, smiling. "What are you going to spend your money on?"

"Sweeties," he told him. "Grandma says if I eat lots of sweets then my teeth will rot, and that means more money from the Tooth Fairy!"

Snape barely contained a snort, but Harry looked down at the young boy, torn between amusement and anxiety.

"I'm afraid that's not how it works, Teddy," he told him gently.

"It is," he nodded.

"No," said Harry, smiling again. "The Tooth Fairy only rewards good boys, whose baby teeth fall out on their own. The Tooth Fairy doesn't like bad teeth."

"Oh." The boy looked thoughtful. "Well, what shall I spend my money on then?"

"You could always save it up," Harry offered, "And buy something you really want."

"Like an aquar…aqu…aqur…"

"Aquarium?"

"Yes!" he beamed. "An aqurum! Full of lots of little fishes!"

"I was thinking of something less extravagant," Harry laughed. He held out his hand for Teddy. "Come on, you. Bedtime."

"But Uncle Harry…! Can I have an extra half hour? Pleeeease?"

"You've already had an extra half an hour," he said. "Now come on, say goodnight to Severus."

Teddy let out a puff of air and stuck out his bottom lip.

"G'night Sev'rus," he said miserably. "It was nice to meet you."

"You too, Ted," Snape replied. Then he looked at Harry. "I'll open the wine, shall I?"

For some awful, inexplicable reason, Harry felt himself blush. He ducked out of the room before Snape could say another word.

By the time he returned, Snape had made himself very much at home; his shoes had been kicked off and he was stretched out on the sofa, a glass of ruby-red wine in his hand. He held the half-empty glass up in a salute as Harry neared him.

"Nice home you have here," he said, before taking a sip of the wine.

Harry ignored him. He stopped in front of the sofa, arms crossed against his chest.

"Whatever you're playing at, stop it," he said firmly. He was breathing heavily through his nose as he glared down at Snape.

Snape lifted an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He sat up and placed his glass on the table in front of him.

"Well?" Harry demanded. "Aren't you going to tell me what this is all about?"

Snape got to his feet, but his expression was blank as he looked at Harry, who felt himself quailing, but told himself to be strong.

"Look," he said, feeling his bravado slipping away, "If this is about that kiss last week…well, you should know it didn't mean anything. I was curious, alright? But that is well and truly over now so you should…you know…stop this."

Finally, a reaction. Snape's mouth lifted into a smirk. It might have been a smile.

"Tell me to stop just once more," he said softly, "and I will."

Harry stared, and then tried to get his mouth to open. It did, but no words came out. He closed it and then tried again.

"This…this is…" he managed, not at all sure of what he was trying to say.

"Just say it," he whispered, "and I'll stop."

He drew closer to Harry and brought a hand to his cheek. It was rough but it felt good against the stubble of his beard, and he had to fight not to close his eyes. _Stop_, he had to say _stop_.

He didn't say it and Snape moved closer, so close that he pressed his mouth against Harry's, his breath on his lips.

"Say it," he whispered against Harry's lips, "and this goes no further."

And as Snape's mouth began to move on Harry's, as his tongue began to lick at his lips, Harry realised that he didn't _want_ to say stop.

Snape Apparated them to the bedroom.

* * *

Harry's knees hit the back of the bed and he fell, bouncing lightly as he landed on the mattress. Snape towered over him, a dark shadow in the unlit bedroom. But then, suddenly, the lights flickered on, almost as if Snape had been reading his mind, and Harry gulped at the predatory gleam in the other man's gaze.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Snape began to peel off his jacket. He kept his eyes fixed on Harry's and Harry found he could look nowhere else. Snape shrugged, pulling one arm out from a sleeve, and then the other. The jacket fell to the carpet.

Then, eyes still on Harry's, Snape mounted the bed. He moved so that he was straddled over Harry's thighs, leaning above him, looking down. He reached out and ran a long, bony finger down the buttons of Harry's shirt, his hand settling over the growing bulge in his trousers.

Harry let out a shocked gasp and his hips moved forwards, like a magnet, into that heat. Snape smirked and pulled the hand away.

"My, my…we _are_ eager, aren't we?"

Harry closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. All he had to do was stay 'stop' and this madness would end.

He heard the rustling of clothes above him and he looked up to see that Snape had divested himself of his shirt. Harry eyes roved the body in front of him, taking in the paleness of the skin and the very light spattering of hair that covered the chest. His stomach was flat, but not toned, and there were no muscles to speak of, except those on his arms. A couple of ribs were also visible, though not shockingly so, and a large, nasty looking scar ran from his lower chest to his stomach, disappearing in the hair that led further downwards, into his dark jeans, where, Harry noticed, a bulge was starting to appear.

Again, he gulped. But before he could think to do anything else, Snape's hands were back on his chest, at his shirt, and Harry just lay there, watching in wonder as slender fingers flicked open the buttons. Harry felt his face flushing with colour as his body was revealed, that hungry look Snape was giving him going right to his cock.

And then, suddenly, lips were at his chest, on his hot, burning skin and Harry arched upwards, bringing his hands up to tangle in Snape's hair. He cried out when teeth closed around a nipple, but then the mouth was gone, replaced by hands.

Lips covered his own and Harry greedily opened his mouth, letting Snape's tongue glide over his, caressing, lighting fire in Harry's body.

Hands travelled up Harry's arms and pushed the open shirt away. Then, breaking the kiss, Snape set his sights on Harry's trousers.

Harry's fingers slid from Snape's hair as, slowly, teasingly, the other man let his own fingers travel the length of Harry's quivering body, coming to rest at the top of his jeans. With a satisfied smirk, he reached for the zip. It was torturously slow and Harry felt every second of it. He closed his eyes again and bucked his hips, seeking a hand, a finger, something…

His jeans were peeled away, dropped on the floor like nothing, and Harry lifted a hand to his still-clothed cock, but Snape smacked it away.

"Mine," he purred. Harry swallowed a groan. This was…so different to how things were with Ginny, and yet it was the same, the same parts of him being touched…but different…it felt…

He felt a hand at his boxers and he snapped his eyes open with a cry. He quickly stifled the rest of it and felt himself flush again. Snape grinned, however, and reached for his wand; Harry felt a silencing charm go up around the room and he pushed himself up on his elbows.

"You can still say 'stop'," Snape reminded him.

Harry gritted his teeth and threw his head back on his pillow, surrendering himself to Snape's ministrations. A part of his brain screamed at him to stop, to take this no further. He chose to ignore it.

It turned out, Snape had very skilful fingers indeed, and a very talented mouth, and when he'd finally brought Harry off, his orgasms crashing through him like so many waves, Harry had flopped down on the bed, panting for breath, eyes closed, feeling the shivers running their course. He was vaguely aware of movement next to him and he cracked open an eye to see Snape, jeans around his ankles, his hand busy around himself.

Harry wished he could have summoned the energy to get a closer look at Snape's cock, but all he could do was lie there and listen and…eventually…he drifted off to sleep…a kiss on the lips being the last thing he was aware of before blackness.

* * *

**A/N:** If you want the **unedited version** (oh yes, it exists!) then please follow the link in my profile (if its not there, give it an hour or two to appear). Although if you are going to review (hint hint) after reading it, I would prefer that you reviewed on **this** site, and not the other one as I don't really use that for, well, anything lol.

So...it's almost 4 in the morning over here. Can you believe I've spent the last TWO HOURS looking for a site to upload the unedited version to?! Seriously, everything was either invitation-only, or ones that require readers to join groups and have passwords, and loads of them required stupid uploading text codes that just confused the hell out of me! Really, two hours! I'm so stressed it's not even funny.

Yeah, anyway, ignore the lack of italics on the other site. You'll just have to imagine where they go lol.

And ignore my bad mood, and please review! I wrote the unedited version just for you. Haha, that rhymes...

I need sleep. Nighty night! xx

**UPDATE:** Just added two more paragraphs to the end because, for some reason, I'd left them off. And thanks for all the reviews so far guys! Glad you liked!


	11. Unhealthy Obsession

**Rating: **M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, _infidelity,_ ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: ****Unhealthy Obsession**

When Harry awoke the next morning, cosy and warm in his bed and wrapped up in his duvet, it had taken him quite some time to realise that the dream (or nightmare) he'd been having of Snape sucking his cock hadn't actually been a dream at all. He'd opened his eyes, yawned, turned on his side, and the realisation of what he'd done had hit him like the Cruciatus Curse. It had been real. It had been _very_ real and the proof of that was lying next to him, fast asleep and snoring.

And so for the next few minutes, Harry had been unable to do anything but stare in shock at the man – _man!_ – lying next to him in bed. His mind a blissful blank, all he'd been able to do was register the useless fact that, in the soft morning sunlight shining through the curtains he'd failed to close the night before, Snape looked very much out of place against the lemony yellow of the duvet, the colour giving his skin an almost jaundice look.

After another long moment had passed, Harry had shaken himself and let his eyes take in more of the sight before him. He hadn't wanted to see, he really hadn't, but it had been like some sort of morbid fascination – he couldn't help _but_ look. Large, hooked nose, pale skin, greasy hair…and memories of that mouth wrapped around his cock.

Somehow, he'd managed to gather enough strength to turn away. He'd groaned as he'd brought his knees up underneath the covers and buried his head in his hands.

It had happened, it had really happened, and _God_, what a mess of things he'd made in allowing it to happen. There was, of course, no one to blame but himself. He'd failed to push Snape away. He'd let the man seduce him. He'd let him into his home – into his _bed_ – and for the life of him he didn't know why!

He'd never done anything like this before. Never. Not once. He'd never even been tempted. Sure, there had been offers, and plenty of opportunities – women throwing themselves at him in Diagon Alley, flirting outrageously, uttering promises of discretion – but he'd never been interested, had never even entertained the idea for the slightest second.

And Ginny knew all about it of course; some of the women had even approached him with Ginny right _there_, right next to him. But she just found the whole thing amusing; she took great pride in being the only one Harry wanted, the only one Harry had ever slept with, the only one who knew what Harry was like in the throes of passion.

But not anymore. Here he was, in bed with Snape. They may not have had actual sex, but what did that matter? Snape had seen him naked, Snape had sucked his cock, Snape had brought him to an incredible orgasm and…

And God. Just…_God_. He couldn't stop thinking of Ginny. His chest tightened painfully when he imagined the look on her face should she ever find out what he'd done. She was such a good, sweet person and she didn't deserve this sort of treatment. She deserved respect and loyalty and love. She did not deserve to have her fiancé in bed with a bloody man!

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

But before he could even begin to fathom a way out of this, Snape began to stir. Harry lifted his head slowly and peered at the man next to him, almost fearful of what he might find.

Snape let out a long sigh and his eyes fluttered open. He yawned and stretched out his arms before letting his gaze settle on Harry, who hitched up the duvet to cover his bare chest.

Harry could have sworn he saw a smirk grace those thin lips for a second. He frowned and turned away, swallowing audibly.

"Morning," Snape said, his voice rough and deep with sleep.

Harry gave a slight nod of his head in greeting.

"I haven't slept that well in years," Snape went on, pushing himself up. "We should do this more often."

Harry's head snapped back to him and he glared. He tried to ignore the nervous fluttering in his stomach.

"Can I use your shower?" Snape asked, _smiling_.

Harry, unable to speak, nodded. He watched as Snape got out from beneath the covers, but he soon turned away again when it quickly became apparent that Snape was (obviously) naked. He fought the blush creeping into his cheeks with all his might and gave a sigh of relief when the door to the en-suite bathroom closed.

He flopped down on the bed and covered his face with the pillow. The moment he heard the shower switch on, he let out a muffled scream, kicking his legs out in front of him. He threw the pillow away and combed his hands through his hair, trying so hard not to pull it all out.

You stupid, stupid fool! You utter idiot. You liar, you cheat, you –

"Unnncle Haaarrrry!"

Harry's eyes grew wide and his heart beat wildly as he heard hurried footsteps running up the stairs. He'd only just managed to compose himself and sit up when the door burst open and Teddy came skipping in.

He grinned when he saw that Harry was awake and he ran over to the bed, getting up and jumping up and down.

"I want breakfast, I want breakfast!"

Harry took a deep, silent breath and forced himself to smile.

"Good morning, Teddy," he said kindly. "Did you have a nice sleep?"

The blue haired boy nodded and continued bouncing up and down.

"Come on, Uncle Harry. It's morning! I want breakfast."

"I'll be down it a minute, alright? You go down and watch TV."

But it appeared that Teddy had stopped listening. His hair went green has he stilled and he turned his face towards the closed bathroom door.

"Who's in there?" he asked. Harry thought he sounded rather suspicious until he reminded himself that his godson was five years old. It was probably just simple curiosity.

He almost breathed a sigh of relief when Teddy then turned to him with a grin on his face.

"Is Auntie Ginny back?"

"No," Harry said, trying to smile back. "No, I'm just about to get in the shower. I'm just letting the water run for a minute, to warm up."

"Couldn't you just use magic?" he asked.

"Its better the muggle way," he said quickly.

"Oh." He appeared to think on it for a short while longer, before starting his bouncing again. "Hey, is Uncle Sev'rus still here? D'you think he'll play cards with me again?"

Harry's stomach squirmed as he thought of the naked man in the next room.

"Severus has gone home," he said to the boy. "He went last night after you'd gone to bed." Then, thinking quickly (and therefore not sensibly) he added, "Hey, Teddy? You're not going to tell anyone Uncle Severus was here, are you?"

Ted stopped jumping again.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well, because," Harry explained, hating himself, "when they hear that Uncle Severus visited us and that they all missed him…well, they might get upset, you see. So it's best to just leave it and not tell them, OK?"

"Oh. OK. Is he going to visit again?"

"Uncle Severus is a very busy man. He might not get the time."

"Oh." He paused. "Can I have ice cream for breakfast?"

After Harry had managed to get Teddy to go downstairs – and after he'd promised that yes, he could have ice cream for breakfast (and no, it as _not_ a bribe!) – Harry fell back onto the bed once more, lost in his own misery. He'd lied to his godson; and worse, he'd made his godson lie _for_ him. What the hell was happening? He felt like he was slowly losing control of everything around him.

Well, no matter. He just had to regain control, that was all. He had to tell Snape to back the hell off and then he needed to put him and everything else behind him. No more mistakes.

The shower shutting off made Harry look up. He quickly tried to compose an argument in his head, something that told Snape in no uncertain terms to leave him alone. He didn't want to allow room for crossed wires or any other such nonsense. After all, Snape seemed to know _exactly_ what he was doing and Harry was well aware he needed to keep his wits about him to get his message across quite clear.

After a short while, the door opened and Snape stepped out, wearing nothing more than a white towel around his waist. Harry fully expected Snape to taunt him by dropping the towel and dressing slowly in front of him, so it was a surprise (not to mention a relief) when the older man seated himself on the edge of the bed and began carefully pulling on his boxers, and then his trousers.

Harry watched, waiting for the right moment to tell Snape exactly what he thought. He wasn't going to stand for this any longer; enough was enough. Things had gone far too far and Snape…

And Snape was looking at him. Harry swallowed and turned away, praying the man would just hurry up and throw a shirt on. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he almost got out of bed, remembering at the last second that he was still naked.

"Don't touch me," he said, shrugging away.

"That's not what you were saying last night," Snape reminded him with a smirk.

"Yeah, well, last night was a mistake," he told him. "You're deluded if you think it meant something."

Snape gave a heavy sigh. "So we're back to that again are we?"

"Back to that?" Harry repeated, stuttering. "We were never...We...You sound as though we've made progress or something."

"We _slept_ together, Potter," he pointed out.

"We didn't _sleep_ together. We…you just…_you know_…and then we went to sleep. It's hardly sex."

"It could have been," said Snape.

Harry shook his head, determined. "I wouldn't have let it get that far."

"Are you sure about that?" asked Snape, amused. "You seemed to enjoy yourself quite a lot last night. I certainly don't recall hearing any complaints, and I _did_ give you the chance to back down."

"Just stop it, Snape!" he shouted suddenly. "This isn't funny! This isn't some game! I'm getting married."

"So I hear," Snape muttered.

"And even if I wasn't…I'm not gay! I'm not attracted to you. I don't want you in my bed; I don't want to be kissing you or touching you or…or…just…"

"Harry…"

"Just get out."

Harry stopped, breathing rather heavily and glaring at Snape. It was an effort not to reach for his wand and curse the man out of his home and he was almost shaking from the restraint.

Snape was simply looking at him. There was no anger, no confusion, no hurt, no malice…he just simply looked at Harry. Then, slowly, he reached out a hand. Harry slapped it away before he even knew what Snape's intention was.

"Get out," he repeated.

"Harry, I think –"

"_Out!_"

Snape shook his head, unbelieving, and then he snorted. "Fine," he said. He got to his feet, pulling on his shirt. "Fine," he said again. "If you want to live in denial, then you live in denial. But I'm telling you right now, this whole set-up you have here…," he waved his hands around the room, "…a big house, a fiancée, future children…it's not you. You're adventurous, you're different; you're not like everyone else, you don't follow the crowd. You're going to be tied down and you're going to be bored out of your skull."

Harry glared at him coldly, hating him, damning him, wishing him gone.

"Fuck you, Snape," he growled. "You don't know enough about me to make such assumptions."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. Really."

Snape paused as he shrugged on his robes. He looked back at Harry.

"I know I'll see you on Friday."

"In your dreams."

* * *

Over in the graveyard of Godric's Hollow, a tall, darkly dressed man sat with his back pressed against a large, white tombstone. His head was in one hand, a bottle of Ogden's in the other. At his feet sat a torn picture; the red haired woman in the photograph laughed and smiled as Severus gulped down whatever little remained in the bottle before tossing it aside.

He wasn't depressed. He wasn't angry, or even ashamed, at being thrown out by Harry Potter. He was, however, deeply unsure of how to proceed or, indeed, if to proceed was the right course of action.

Last night had been amazing. It was rare Severus used that word, but there was nothing else to describe it. He'd never felt so _connected_ to someone. What they'd done was great and it had felt good, but what Severus was referring to was what had happened _afterwards_, when Harry had fallen asleep and Severus had just held him. It had been an impulse thing, obviously – Severus Snape did _not_ cuddle. But last night…he had. A psychiatrist would probably have told him that he'd been denied affection for too long, and maybe that was true, he mused. Severus was still only coming to terms with the way his life had turned out and realising that he still wanted Harry, even after he'd had him, was quite disconcerting.

He sighed and glanced down at the picture again.

He remembered vividly the day he'd turned up at Grimmauld Place in search of that photograph. He'd been in a right mess, tears streaming down his face, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The students had been rebelling at school, the teachers out to get him, and the Dark Lord had been piling so much pressure on him, so many rules and expectations, so much death and torture, that when he'd tried and failed to picture Lily in his mind, he'd gone into a blind panic. He'd rushed over to London and had broken into the house with ease. He'd raided Sirius Black's bedroom in the hope of finding something, anything, his whole body trembling, wanting nothing more than to scream and scream and scream.

The moment he'd found it, he'd collapsed against the side of the bed. He'd torn the photo in two and for a moment he'd let calm descend all around him. He had her, his lovely Lily, smiling and laughing like she always had (although less and less around Severus). After a moment, he'd picked up the letter the photograph had been with and had ripped away the words "Lots of love, Lily." He'd left the house a composed man.

And so from then on, every time he'd felt himself swaying away from the path that was before him, every time he'd felt scared or overwhelmed, and even the times he'd felt tempted, _sorely tempted_, to just give in and join with the Dark Lord, world be damned, he'd looked at Lily's picture. One glance at her and he'd been reminded of all the reasons he needed to keep going. Of the reasons he needed to help Potter.

And now here he was, trying to get into Potter's pants. It felt so disrespectful of Lily, but he couldn't help the way he was feeling. Harry had given him hope of a life worth living.

The boy was in denial, but Severus couldn't blame him. After everything that had happened in his life, it was only natural that he'd want some sort of order and normality. But Severus was convinced that there was much more to Harry.

And if he was wrong? Well, he'd already let things come this far. He'd already put his friendship with him on the line when he'd told himself he wouldn't. What was the harm in going on? Especially when there was nothing left to lose.

* * *

Once again, Harry found himself in desperate need of someone to talk to. He'd made an error and he was paying the price, but strangely it seemed ten times as worse without a friend to turn to.

He couldn't quite believe what he'd done and he didn't know which bit disturbed him the most – the fact that he'd cheated, or the fact that he'd been with a man.

He just couldn't get his head around it. Why was this happening to him? And, more importantly, why was he _letting_ it? Maybe Snape was right; maybe Harry _was_ adventurous. And maybe it was that adventurous streak that was causing him to create unnecessary drama all around him. Things were never dull, that was for sure.

But right now, at this very moment, he needed a friend. He needed to talk through his mistakes, his problems, in order to get a clear idea of what he should do next.

He couldn't talk to Ron for obvious reasons – he'd cheated on his sister and Ron would be well within his rights to curse Harry into next week. And Hermione was Ron's girlfriend, not to mention Ginny's best friend – she was a double "no", despite her forgiving and understanding nature. Andromeda would think he was a bad influence on Teddy and his mates at work were bound to gossip. He needed someone who wasn't connected to the important things in his life.

Not a single person sprung to mind.

So it looked like this would have to be something Harry would have to sort out on his own. It was fully what he deserved. He'd never been so ashamed, but he couldn't afford to let it get to him. He needed to be himself again. He needed to throw himself into something, distract himself from thinking on things too much. He needed to concentrate on his life. He was getting married to Ginny and he was going to give her the best possible wedding she could ever ask for! He owned her that much.

* * *

"What do you think about black bridesmaid dresses?" Ginny asked, flicking through one of the numerous magazines scattered about the living room. Everywhere Harry looked there was something to do with weddings and he was only beginning to understand just how much work planning one required.

He looked up from the brochure on cakes he'd been pursuing (who'd have thought there were so many different styles?) and glanced at the magazine in Ginny's lap.

"Yeah, they're nice," he said, nodding. "Who are our bridesmaids again?"

"Hermione, Luna, and Gwenog," she reminded him. "And I was thinking of putting the flower girl in pink." She reached for another magazine and flicked through its pages quickly. "This one here," she said, pointing to a fluffy, baby pink dress. "What do you think?"

"Victoire will look adorable in that," Harry agreed. "Have you decided on flowers yet?"

"Pink, purple, and white maybe? But I don't know what kind yet, I'm still looking."

Ginny had only been back two days and already they had covered a lot of ground concerning their wedding. They'd pretty much gotten stuck in straight away and Harry was actually enjoying himself.

The first thing to decide had been the venue and that had been over and done with in the blink of an eye. Harry had let Ginny know that money wasn't an issue and he'd fully expected her to take advantage of that, booking an expensive and elegant manor house. However, he'd been pleasantly surprised when he'd learnt that her heart was set on the large garden behind The Burrow, just like Bill and Fleur had done six years previous. Hosting their wedding at the Weasley family home meant they had free reign of the event and didn't have to abide by any restrictions professional venues may have imposed.

They had also agreed quite early on to have Molly and Andromeda cater the event. They'd offered to do it for nothing but Harry had absolutely insisted on paying. In the end they had allowed Harry and Ginny to pay for ingredients, but the service would be free of charge. Now all they had to do was decide on a menu.

Invitations were due to be sent out next week and Harry had only just finished compiling his list of guests. He'd debated heavily over whether or not to invite the Dursley's; he'd only seen them once since the end of the war, but they exchanged Christmas cards every year. In the end he'd decided it was only polite to invite them, although he didn't really have much hope of them actually turning up.

For their honeymoon they had decided upon spending a week in the gorgeous and relaxing Maldives. Harry had pushed for two weeks but work had only allowed him one, despite having let them know in advance. Christmas and New Year were busy times for the Aurors and they couldn't afford to have the Head Auror absent for both. But Ginny had been happy – it was very rare they got a holiday after all, what with their busy schedules, and so a week in the Maldives sounded like utter paradise.

Somehow, somewhere along the line, _Witch Weekly_ had gotten wind of their arrangements and had been in touch, asking if they could have exclusive coverage of the wedding for their magazine, offering up to five thousand galleons for the rights. Before Harry had even gotten a chance to word a negative, but polite, reply, Ginny, along with brothers Ron and George, had told them where to shove their offer.

And so after two whole days of planning and ordering and publicity control, all that was left to do now was choose the flowers, organise a band, and buy the outfits.

As Harry sat browsing through a muggle brochure on wedding suits, he had to contain his surprise at how fast things had suddenly progressed. He'd expected the arrangements to take weeks, maybe even months, but certainly not _days_. He supposed having your own venue, not to mention caterer, made things a lot easier, but he was still amazed at how much simpler things were with magic.

OK. Perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration. Even though magic was an enormous help when it came to timekeeping and organisation, it also had the ability to confuse and hinder things. All you had to do was look at the Dark Lord to see how bad magic could make things. It was like everything else though; the results depended upon your intentions.

And Harry had fully intended upon having the wedding arrangements to occupy his time. He hadn't expected magic to make things go so quick, or to have Ginny know _exactly_ what she wanted. He'd wanted a welcome distraction, something to work towards, but now, with the big stuff out of the way in a matter of days, his mind was, once again, free to wander into dangerous territory.

Perhaps he'd been too hard on Snape. Maybe Snape hadn't meant to be all…manipulative and stuff. Maybe that was just what Snape was all about? Maybe he was just _that_ insecure that he needed to hide behind a malicious mask to protect himself?

Harry snorted to himself and tossed the magazine on the table. Listen to him, making excuses! Snape had just tried to ruin one of the best things in Harry's life and Harry…what? Pitied him? He wasn't going to feel guilty for yelling at Snape.

* * *

By the time Friday morning came around, Harry was confident that his friendship with Snape was well and truly over. He regretted that things had ended the way they had, but really, what else could he have done? Snape was more trouble than he was worth. Was it any wonder the man found it so hard to make, and keep, friends if this was how he treated them, like they were some form of entertainment, there to be teased and mocked? Seriously, that man had _issues_.

But that evening, as Harry sat in the living room with Ginny, going through some more of their wedding arrangements, he realised, with annoyance, that he couldn't keep his mind off Snape. He hated him, there was no denying that, but at the same time he felt an unsettling amount of worry. Maybe Harry was just being naïve, but what if Snape needed help?

He shook his head at himself. Maybe _Harry_ needed help.

"I'm going to get drink," he announced to Ginny, standing up from the sofa. "Do you want one?"

She shook her head and Harry shuffled off to the kitchen, welcoming the privacy it afforded him. He opened the fridge and grabbed a butterbeer before sliding into a seat at the table.

Despite everything, despite Snape's sudden vindictiveness (if you could call it that), Harry still felt the need to see him. For one thing, it seemed to him that Snape hadn't gotten the message the last time they'd spoken, if his parting words were anything to go by. And for another, Harry hated leaving things unfinished. And, well…

He sighed and took a swig of the cold drink.

Was it wrong of him to want to see Snape again? He couldn't get the man out of his head. He was…curious. He was angry and he was curious. Yes. And that meant…

God, he couldn't even think straight anymore. The bottom line was…Snape was a huge part of his life. He was someone Harry had history with and he was now someone who had possibly opened a new chapter in Harry's life, a chapter that needed to be closed, finished. Because no matter how much Harry whined and ranted and denied everything, facts were facts. It wasn't to cheat on Ginny, and it wasn't fair to string her along. Harry needed to get things sorted. For all their sakes.

* * *

Harry banged on the door with his fist, the sound of it strengthening him, spurring him on. He didn't care if the neighbours looked out of their windows to see what the commotion was; he didn't care if they came out to gawp at him; all he wanted was for Snape to open this bloody door before he blasted it open himself!

He was just beginning to contemplate pulling out his wand when the door to the cottage flew open. Snape glared, furious at him, no doubt, for making a scene on his doorstep, but Harry pushed passed him and into the house.

"Let's get one thing straight," he said loudly, spinning around to face the man. "I am _not_ here for a repeat performance. I am _not_ here because I'm attracted to you. I am here to tell you that this stops _right_ now. I don't _want_ this. Do you understand? I don't want _any of this_."

"Really?" Snape purred. He closed the door.

Harry gritted his teeth. "Yes. Really. I don't know what you're playing at, but it stops now. It isn't fair, Snape."

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic," he said, rolling his eyes. "You're here, aren't you? I told you you would be."

"I'm here to tell you to leave me alone," he snapped. "If you want to carry on being friends, then fine. But you don't touch, you don't kiss, you don't flirt, and you don't make suggestions. Is that understood?"

Snape snorted and gave Harry a cool look. "Are you giving me orders, Potter?"

Harry swallowed. "It's sexual harassment," he said.

Snape let out a bark of laughter and moved a few strides into the room.

"Sexual harassment?" he echoed with amusement. "Is that what you call it when you come over here, asking me to kiss you? Is that what you call it when you don't say 'no', when I give you every opportunity to do so?"

Harry bit his tongue and looked away. Snape took a step closer and Harry felt himself shiver.

"So," said Snape, measuring his words, "you don't want me to touch you?"

Harry shook his head, still not looking at the man.

"And you don't want me to kiss you?"

Harry swallowed again, trying hard to ignore the images his mind seemed intent on showing him. He licked his dry lips.

"Snape," he warned, "Don't do this. I'm not that kind of person. I don't cheat on people. I _love_ Ginny."

"I'm sure you do."

"I _do_," he said. "Why are you doing this?"

Snape, who had been steadily increasing the gap between them, took one final step. His body was almost flush against Harry's, who could feel the heat rolling off him in intoxicating waves, drowning him.

"Because you're letting me," Snape replied, barely a whisper, and he leaned forwards and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's lips. When he pulled away, there was no smirk on his face. When he looked at Harry, his expression was open and sincere. And Harry, whose morals were rapidly draining away, felt nothing but lust well up inside him, lighting every nerve, and before he could even think about what to do or how to respond, he threw himself at the other man.

Lips met in a heated kiss, caressing, devouring, and Harry never wanted it to end. He never wanted to let go of Snape and he fisted his hands tightly in the man's shirt, clawing savagely at the material, trying to tear the barrier away.

Somehow, in a haze of passion, Harry managed his objective. He shoved the shirt furiously from Snape's body, barely containing a moan as his hands moved over hard, broad shoulders. The kiss broke as Harry looked down at the pale chest. He did nothing but stare as he tried to make himself realise that this was happening, actually _happening_, and it was wrong and…and Snape…

That train of thought disappeared into a tunnel as Harry felt hands at his waist. Snape had managed to remove Harry's belt without his notice and was now working on ridding him of his suddenly too-tight jeans and boxers. He made to protest, to say something, _anything_ to stop the proceedings, but before he could even begin to form words, he felt his trousers drop to the floor, quickly followed by his underwear.

Snape took a step back and to Harry it seemed he was admiring his work. There was a hungry look in his eyes that Harry recognised from their last "session" together. He shuddered.

Standing there with his erection peeking out from the bottom of his shirt, Harry felt horribly exposed and he loved it. He loved that Snape's eyes were on him, staring transfixed at his hard cock. He loved that Snape was getting aroused from the mere sight.

He knew he was blushing but he didn't care. He didn't have time to care. All he wanted was for Snape to touch him and he darted forwards so fast that he knocked the other man off his feet, tumbling down onto the sofa.

He quickly pushed himself up and moved to straddle Snape's lap. His exposed cock brushed against Snape's bare chest and he gasped as waves of pleasure shot through him. He latched on to Snape's mouth again and pushed himself as close to the man as he could possibly get.

The feeling was incredible. Two hard bodies pressed together, the sounds of their moans, the smell of their sweat…it was so raw, so masculine, so completely in a different world.

He felt Snape shift upwards and remembered that the other man still had his trousers on. He groaned in frustration as he lifted himself up, letting Snape make quick work of his pants, before sliding back down, this time onto a naked lap. He gasped loudly as his erection met another. It was so different to what he was used to, but it felt bloody good so he didn't care. He rocked his hips forwards, and then again and again and he felt no shame in it at all. He'd never felt anything quite like this and he was mesmerised, the shear ecstasy of the hard, rapid movements overtaking every thought and every sense.

For a second time, Snape demonstrated his skills as a lover and Harry could do nothing but enjoy every second, hips thrusting wildly, breath coming in pants. And as Harry dug his nails into Snape's back and lifted his head, the other man suddenly let out a loud grunt and stilled, his mouth wide, and Harry, shaking almost uncontrollably now, felt himself following, bucking his hips, riding out his orgasm, until he was completely and utterly spent.

Harry's head fell back down onto Snape's shoulder. And as he buried his head at Snape's neck, breathing heavily and fighting the tiredness that descended, he smiled.

* * *

**A/N:** The unedited version is again at the link in my profile.

I had MAJOR writer's block with this chapter. And I'm totally CRINGING at that last scene! Writer's block just wouldn't let me edit it so it ended up sounding weird and really, really bad, and the unedited version isn't much better. There's only a few paragraphs difference though. As someone pointed out, the unedited isn't all that graphic, but I wanna be on the safe side by posting it else where.

And sorry for the wait! I was on a roll as well - I did, what, 3 weeks and 3 updates? And then it all went silly again. Sorry.

Please review and let me know if I'm forgiven for the awfulness of this chapter! I should (hopefully!) be in the right mindset for the next one.

xx


	12. A Fine Line

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: A Fine Line**

Many may not have thought it, but Harry fancied there was quite a difference between "cheating" and "having an affair." The first implied a mistake, an error passed off as an experiment; it implied not valid reasons, but excuses and selfish impulses. The other, the "affair", implied more. It implied that a choice had been made to carry on. It implied feelings and reasons.

To Harry, who was lying on his bed and staring at the blank ceiling, it seemed pretty damn obvious as to which category he fell into. There was no way he was having an affair. He didn't have a single valid reason for his behaviour of late. All he had were excuses…_it doesn't mean anything, I'm just curious, it's a phase that'll pass_…nothing but empty words, meant for his peace of mind.

But it just didn't make any sense. He loved Ginny. He loved her with all his heart. How could he not? She was perfect. He loved her flaming red hair that fell to her gorgeous, slender hips; he loved her softly tanned skin and small, firm breasts. And he practically worshipped her beautiful toned stomach and long, smooth legs.

Whereas Snape – Harry snorted to himself – Snape, well…where did you start?

Long, greasy hair, large, hooked nose, rounded stomach, bony chest, and skin so pale it made him look ill.

Ginny had big, brown eyes and a smile that made him go all gooey inside.

Snape's eyes were dark and empty, and his scowl made him look unapproachable.

Ginny had cute, little freckles on her face and arms.

Snape was full of scars and hair.

Ginny was energetic and outgoing. She enjoyed being with her friends and having fun.

Snape was sour and hated socialising. He didn't enjoy anything.

Not very attractive, was he? And he was nothing compared to Ginny. He didn't even have the personality to make up for the bad looks.

_So why was Harry so bloody obsessed with him?_

He had it all – a lovely townhouse in London, a well-paid job that he enjoyed, a fiancée that thought the world of him, and future in-laws that adored him. Unofficial or not, the Weasley's had been his family for years, and he had everything to look forward to – children, for instance. He and Ginny were going to have babies (two, maybe three, possibly even four) and he was going to watch them grow up; first words, first steps, first wands, watching them go off to Hogwarts, then getting married and having kids of their own. He was going to be someone's grandfather; great-grandfather even. That was all ahead of him, waiting to be enjoyed. It was the life his parents had never had, the life he'd thought he would never be _able_ to have. And he was prepared to throw all that away because he felt some inexplicable, teensy weensy, microscopic attraction to Severus Snape? It was madness.

But God, he couldn't help but grin! Just remembering the way Snape's naked body had felt against his was enough to make him hard. The way their hot, frantic bodies had rubbed together, so new, so alive. No fancy lingerie, no make-up, none of that. Just them, desperate and sweaty, the feeling so real, so raw, so bloody masculine!

Harry let out a deep groan, which he quickly stifled by shoving his hand up to his mouth. He bit hard at the back of his fingers as he let his other hand slide down, down into his pants. He couldn't get the image of himself and Snape out of his head. The way they'd been humping against each other, Harry's nails digging into the man's back, the sounds of harsh breaths and moans filling his ears.

He should have felt ashamed. He should have felt dirty and guilty. And he did, to an extent.

But right now, what he felt more than anything else, was giddy excitement.

* * *

"What a morning," Ron complained, dropping into a seat opposite Harry in the canteen. His cheeks were flushed, almost matching the colour of his hair, and his brow was damp with sweat. He let out a long puff of air and reached for the bottle of water on his tray. As he was busy taking gulp after gulp, Hermione joined them at their table, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend.

"I don't know how many times I've told you to use cooling charms when you're chasing someone in this hot weather," she reprehended. "Honestly, you'll end up collapsing from heat exhaustion if you carry on like this."

Ron lowered the bottle with a few heavy pants.

"Hermione," he said, "When some insane person jumps out in front of me and starts running down the street, throwing curses left, right, and centre, cooling charms are the last thing on my mind." He took a few final swigs of water and tossed the empty bottle back onto his tray. "Women, eh?" he said to Harry. "They think they know it all. Especially this one," he nodded his head at Hermione. "The other day I was in the middle of modifying one of those electric lights we have in the house and she comes in and starts harping on about how I'm a danger to everyone around me!"

"You'd set the lamp on fire!"

"It was _supposed_ to be on fire," he told her, and Harry could tell this wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. "That's the way we do it in the wizarding world. Remember?"

"Yeah, with wooden torches and chandeliers," she replied, "not with lampshades!"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Women, eh?" he said again.

Harry was about to reply, but then he caught the look on Hermione's face. He looked down, grinned, and busied himself with his meat and potato pasty.

It had been a relatively busy week at work and that was how Harry liked it best. Every day was different and he craved the adventure it brought his way. This week alone had had him up and down the country, following leads and organising all sorts of raids. On Monday they'd busted a group of twenty-something year olds for supplying illegal and highly dangerous potions to the public; on Wednesday they'd arrested a carnivorous Mermaid for feasting on the humans she'd managed to lure into the water with the promise of sex, and yesterday they'd chased on old man right up onto the very roof of Buckingham Palace. Harry still wasn't entirely sure that placing those two particularly strong memory charms on the Queen had been such a good idea, especially when he'd seen footage of her on last nights news, wandering around London with a skateboard in her hand. But still, it was all in a days work and he had Kingsley and the Prime Minister's assurances that they would keep an eye on her.

Away from work, things were much calmer. The wedding arrangements had pretty much been taking care of themselves now that the invitations had been sent out, and most of what they would need for their December wedding had been ordered and booked, leaving Harry and Ginny free for entire evenings, something which they had been only too pleased to take advantage of. So far this week they had enjoyed two fancy meals out in London – one of which had been on a boat down the River Thames – as well as a Weasley family visit to The Burrow, and a trip to the cinema with Teddy and Andromeda. The plan was to cram in as much time as possible with each other, family, and friends, before Ginny's matches started up again – her team was now through to the quarter-finals of the European Championships and if they won their next match she'd be gone for a whole week, with an extra four days added on if they won the semi's. Whilst Harry had connections in the Floo offices in the Department of Magical Transportation, he couldn't keep asking them for favours whenever Ginny went abroad. He'd just have to make do with conversations through the fire instead of actual visits.

He wished he could go and watch her but it was very rare he ever got the chance. Apart from the occasional few that were played during the evening or on a weekend, most of her matches were scheduled for the daytime whilst he was at work. A lot of people in his office had booked the time off in order to go and enjoy the games with their kids, but Harry didn't have that luxury as Head Auror. Still, Ginny didn't mind too much and she always gave him a blow-by-blow account of the match the moment she got home.

Sighing, he wiped the crumbs from his pasty off his work robes and reached for his drink. He missed Quidditch. He missed the adrenaline it gave him, blood pumping through his veins as he soared through the air, the crowd cheering him on. Being the Gryffindor Seeker was the first thing Harry had ever been good at and he'd felt like he'd truly belonged on that team. It had been fun and competitive, something away from all the school work and nasty rumours that had once been so prominent in his life. Still were, in fact, but he had other things to take his mind off all that now. If he didn't have Ginny and her love, he wasn't sure what his life would be like.

"…awake? Harry? Hello?"

"Hm?" Harry looked up. Ron and Hermione were staring at him over their lunch.

"Where were you?" Ron asked with a grin. "Some place nice, I hope?"

Harry chuckled and unfastened his drink. "I was just thinking," he told them.

"About?"

"Quidditch."

Hermione snorted and turned back to her lasagne. Ron just smirked and launched into a one-sided conversation on all the many reasons the Chudley Cannons were going to beat the Holyhead Harpies next week.

By the time Ron had reached Reason Number Eleven ("My sister's in the Harpies and what are the chances of someone we know _actually_ winning the Championships?"), Harry had finished eating his rather large slice of apple pie and Hermione was nowhere in sight.

"Ron," Harry said, interrupting a long, passionate speech on bad Weasley luck, "I fail to see what this has to do with anything. If the Harpies win, you _know_ you'll be bragging about it to everyone."

"What do you mean, 'if'?" came a familiar voice. They both looked up and found Ginny approaching their table. Harry smiled at her and she bent down and kissed him on the lips in greeting.

"Oh, come on, Gin," said Ron, stabbing his fork through his now-cold beef burger. "You don't stand a chance against the Cannons and you know it. They've been on top of their game this year."

"And we haven't?" she replied. "We're ahead of them in the tables in case you've forgotten."

"Not for long," he assured her. "Your Chaser's are a bunch of school kids compared to ours."

"Oh, stop talking out of your arse and budge up. I want to see what Harry wants to do for his birthday."

Ron grumbled to himself but moved into Hermione's empty chair all the same. Ginny slid into his vacated one and beamed at Harry.

"You came all the way here to talk about my birthday?" he asked, slightly bewildered.

"Well, no," she admitted. "Charlie Wilkinson floo'd me before. He wants me to try out for the England team! Can you believe it?"

"Really? Wow, that's fantastic!"

"Yeah," mumbled Ron. "Brilliant."

"Just imagine – in three years time, I could be playing at the World Cup! How amazing is that?"

"I'm really happy for you," Harry told her, genuinely pleased. Then he smirked and glanced at Ron. "What was that you were saying about Weasley luck?"

"Mustn't affect the girls," he muttered. "So, what's this about Harry's birthday?"

Ginny rolled her eyes but changed the subject anyway. "Well, I know you said you don't want a fuss, but I was thinking that maybe we could all go out for a meal or something? I don't like _not_ doing something and you're going to be 23."

"23 is hardly special," he pointed out.

"But you're only 23 once," she said with a smile.

Harry sighed, shaking his head, but his lips flicked upwards at her dedication. "Fine," he said. "A birthday meal it is then. But I don't know what all the fuss is about. It isn't for another month yet."

She stood up from the table. "These things need planning in advance," she said. She bent forwards and kissed him swiftly on the lips again. "OK, I'll see you at home. Have a nice day." And with a wave, she was off across the room and out of the double doors.

"Well," said Harry, getting to his feet and lifting his tray. "That's good news, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Ron said. "It's about time we all went out for a proper meal."

"I meant Ginny playing for England."

"Oh. Yeah. Great."

Harry laughed at his friend and put his tray on the pile. "Come on, Ronniekins. Back to work."

* * *

The air was quite humid that evening as Harry made his way across the quiet village square of Godric's Hollow. Steam rose from the rain washed cobblestones as the dying, orange sun warmed everything before him, the shop windows, the church gates, the puddles of rain water. Light glinted off the large memorial of Lily and James Potter, their still faces shining down on their son, who hurried passed them without a glance.

He was late, but that was the least of his worries. Why was it that when he was with his friends he could forget about all of this and have a good time? Yet the moment he was alone, his thoughts practically sprinted to Severus Snape? The man was a demon and Harry's obsession with him was going to ruin lives. Ginny had been so happy today and just imaging the look on her face should she ever find out what Harry had been up to was enough to make his heart feel torn in two. He couldn't carry on doing this to her. He couldn't do it to Snape or to himself. It wasn't fair.

When Harry had returned home from work that day, he and Ginny had gone straight to the bedroom and made love. Wasn't that proof enough that their relationship was exciting and passionate? They didn't need wedding rings to tell them that they were a family – it was deeply etched into everything they did. From waking up in the morning, to going to sleep at night; from arguing over whose turn it was to cook, from apologising and forgetting it had ever happened with a few simple words and a kiss. He was _happy_ with Ginny and that was the life he wanted.

So it was no great surprise that anxiety gripped Harry's stomach painfully as he hurried around the corner that led to Dumbledore's old cottage. After spending a fantastic week with Ginny, he was finally here to tell Snape, once and for all, that it was friendship or nothing.

As he continued down the gavel path, he caught a glimpse of the Potter House and his heart sank. His parents would be so very ashamed of him if they could see him now. Sirius would be disappointed, and Dumbledore would no doubt look at him sadly, something which, Harry had experienced in his time, was far worse than anything else the man could possibly say or do.

But what did that matter? They weren't here to comfort or to scold, and that was yet another reason why he had to end things with Snape. Ginny was the one who'd been there for Harry. She'd been there through thick and thin. When Dumbledore had died, she'd been there to hold him. When he'd broken up with her to keep her safe, she'd never lost hope. And when the war had ended, she'd been so strong.

What was Snape, compared to that? Definitely not something worth all this messing around, that was for sure. He needed to bring things to an end. Friendship or nothing. You could never have too many friends.

By the time he reached the door to Snape's cottage, his heart was beating in his throat. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans and lifted a hand to knock. A moment later, Snape was stood facing him, dark clothes, dark scowl, dark demeanour.

"Hey." Harry swallowed, then added, "How are you?"

Snape's eyes flickered down the length of his body and Harry could tell the man was immediately suspicious of him. He took a deep, silent breath and tried to calm his nerves. Only Snape could ever have this effect on him.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "I got held up."

Snape narrowed his eyes and Harry held his breath. As he waited for the results of whatever judgement Snape was making of him, he cursed himself for being so tense. But just as he was contemplating what to say to end the growing silence, Snape took a step back, apparently satisfied with what greeted him on his doorstep.

"Come in, then," he said, turning his back and heading for the living room. "Would you like a drink? I have a new bottle of wine in."

"Actually," said Harry, "I thought we could go out tonight. I fancy going to the pub. We haven't been there in a while. What do you say?"

"Too many people," Snape answered briskly. "I'm not particularly in the mood for an audience." Then he stopped, and turned to Harry slowly. "Although…if that's what you prefer, I'm sure it can easily be arranged."

Harry's eyes bulged and he felt himself blushing. He made to smile and laugh off Snape's advances as a joke, but it came out a nervous titter. Snape's infamous eyebrow rose and Harry gulped.

"I meant, you know…to talk." Snape's expression didn't change and Harry struggled to press on. "Do you want to go to London then, or something? We could go to a café or watch a film."

"Hmm." Snape looked thoughtful, and he crossed his arms. "We can't do much talking if we're watching a film."

"Oh. Yeah, of course. You're right. OK. Well…"

"Harry?"

He stopped his idiotic stammering and looked up.

"You're nervous," Snape said. "Don't be."

Harry laughed. "I'm not nervous," he said, which would have sounded a lot more convincing if his voice hadn't chosen that moment to imitate the high tones of a young girl. He cringed as he hastily cleared his throat, then said, "Why don't we go for a walk? We can talk and get some air."

Snape just smirked and headed towards doors. Harry held still as the man pressed passed him, ignoring the way his stomach did a triple somersault at the brief contact. Friendship or nothing, he reminded himself. He turned and followed Snape.

"So," he said, walking alongside the man, treading the path he had only just come, "How was your day?"

"Tolerable. Yours?"

"It was good, yeah," he replied. "We arrested a load of people. Oh, and Ginny's been asked to try out for the England quidditch team after the European Championships are over. She could be playing in the next World Cup, isn't that great?"

Snape cast a sideways look at Harry and his mouth twitched.

"How lovely for her," he drawled in response. "Which reminds me – I received an invite to your wedding yesterday."

Harry almost tripped over his own feet. He stopped in his tracks and stared at Snape.

"You did?"

"I did."

"What did you do with it?" And why was there a sweat breaking out over Harry's body?

"What do you mean, 'what did you do with it'?" Snape scoffed. "It's hardly an explosive or a dangerous curse. It's an invitation, and a vile-inducingly romantic one at that."

"I mean, did you reply to it or throw it away or what?"

Snape sighed and crossed his arms for the second time that evening.

"I left it on the kitchen table," he said, as if speaking to a child. "There? Are you happy?"

Harry flushed and shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry," he said. "It's just…I –"

" – Didn't put me down on your guest list," Snape finished, resuming their walking. "I gathered that much, Potter."

Harry offered an apologetic smile. "Ginny must have done it," he said, and that thought hurt like hell. The fact that she would put aside her hatred for Snape, just so Harry could have all his friends at their wedding…

"So…are you coming?"

Snape glanced over at him. "Do you want me to?"

They had now reached the end of the gravel path. Along the cobbled road that led back to the village square, streetlamps were jumping into life. The road that led out of Godric's Hollow and into the countryside had only the light of the setting sun. From here, Harry could see perfectly the ruined house in which his parents had once lived. It was in this direction he now walked and Snape strolled with him.

When they reached the garden fence, Harry stopped to take in the now-familiar sight. The garden was just as overgrown and as wild as ever, and the chipped dirty-white paint on the front door was now almost gone completely. The windows were covered in dirt and dust, making it hard for him to see into the room beyond. Not for the first time, he experienced the overwhelming urge to push open the gate and march up the path. He wanted to see the bedrooms and the bathroom. He wanted to see the kitchen and the living room. He wanted to know what it felt like to look through the window from the other side.

He reached out a hand and grasped the rusty metal of the garden gate. The plaque commemorating the terrible events of that long-ago Halloween night gleamed in the evening light. His eyes travelled over the many messages that had been scrawled on its surface, all in different colours, all flashing up at him; words of condolences, words of luck and encouragement, words of congratulations.

More than anything, he wished there was someway for him to remember.

Snape shifted beside him. Harry glanced at him, then back at the house.

"Do you miss her?" he asked the older man quietly. "My mum?"

Snape was silent. He, too, was looking at the broken house and Harry would have given anything to know what was going through his mind. Of course he missed her, he thought. What a stupid thing to ask. Lily had been his best friend for years.

He thought what it would be like if Ron or Hermione were suddenly taken away from him one day and his heart clenched. Then he thought of how it must have been for Snape. He'd lost his friendship with Lily whilst she'd been alive, and then he'd gone on to…well. He couldn't think about that now. Not with Snape standing next to him. Snape had paid many times for his mistakes.

"I used to imagine what my life would have been like if they hadn't been killed," Harry spoke softly. "All the holidays we would have gone on, all the visits to Sirius and Remus. I used to imagine going shopping in Diagon Alley with them, and all the friends I would have made before school. And as much as I love Ron and Hermione and Ginny…I can't help but sometimes wonder what everything would be like now…if they were alive. Would Sirius still be here? Would Remus, and Dumbledore?"

He looked to Snape, who was still gazing up at the house. He briefly wondered if _he'd_ been in there, all those years ago, on his mission to find a photograph of Lily.

"You shouldn't dwell on what could have been," Snape said suddenly, startling Harry, despite his voice being barely above a whisper. "Thoughts like that will drive you crazy. Believe me, I know."

Harry looked at him for a little while longer. He then sighed, and nodded.

They spent the next hour walking around the village, Harry asking questions and listening as Snape talked about the Lily Evans he had known at school. As well as her skills in Charms and Potions – Lily had known about Snape being the Half-Blood Prince and had used his notes countless times in class – she had also been quite gifted at chess and had loved challenging Snape to matches, which was how she had won many of the chocolate frog cards she had collected to show her parents at home. She'd loved to read and had spent many hours in the library, pouring over her homework with Snape, sitting at the table that overlooked the lake. Just as Harry had been starting to think of how much she was reminding him of Hermione, Snape had gone on to describe all the tricks they had bought from Jonko's and all the pranks they had played on her parents during the first few summer holidays away from Hogwarts.

Eventually, their walk led them out of the village and into the countryside. By now, the sun had disappeared and Godric's Hollow glittered below them as they climbed a grassy hill to survey their surroundings. Apart from the lights in the distance, darkness was all around them and the hot night air was as stifling as ever it could be in the summer. Silence was everywhere.

Perhaps it was because they'd talked about his mother; perhaps it was because of the stillness in the air; or perhaps it was even because of Snape's presence by his side. Whatever it was, Harry felt at peace with the world. He could happily sit here all night, he thought, lost in the darkness, but not lost at all.

Snape really was just like everyone else, he realised. He loved like everyone else, just as much as he hurt like them too. Harry couldn't even begin to comprehend what the man had been through in his life, but he was learning.

A gentle breeze fluttered his hair and he closed his eyes, savouring the coolness on his skin.

Snape let out a breath of air. Harry turned and smiled at him, his eyes only just able to make out the figure next to him. He felt a hand on his arm and he started. He gazed into dark eyes that twinkled in the light from the stars and his stomach fluttered. And when warm lips pressed against his, he sighed in contentment as he melted into the strong embrace, slowly and softly returning the kiss.

Buttons were fumbled with and skin was stroked. Teeth found his sensitive neck as he bit his lip against the moan that wanted desperately to escape. A thigh slid in between his legs as he lay down, heart pounding.

As fingers loosened his belt, he told himself that this was the _last time._

And as a rough hand fastened around his cock, he realised that he was, in fact, now having an affair with Severus Snape.

* * *

**A/N:** This chapter looked a lot longer on word doc lol. Anywho, there is no unedited version for this chapter, sorry to all you smutty fans out there lol. And thank you for all the kind reviews last time. They really cheered me up. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! xx


	13. More Means More

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: More Means More**

There was a problem here that needed solving. It was tall, wore dark clothes, and went by the name of Severus Snape.

Harry gave a great sigh as he looked up. He'd been absently carving a line into his desk with the tip of his quill for the past half hour, but the ridge was now so deep that he'd have to use magic to get rid of it altogether. It wasn't the first time he'd defaced the wooden surface and if anyone was ever to reverse the spells on his desk, they'd most likely think he was suffering from a nervous habit.

With a heavy groan, he put his head in his hands and rubbed at his aching temples.

Snape. He couldn't have this conversation with himself again. He was almost crazy from the repetition. For weeks he'd been telling himself the same things, over and over; for weeks he'd been trying to analyse his own behaviour, trying to figure out just _why_ he was doing exactly what he was doing. He couldn't carry on like this – he'd go mad.

He, Harry Potter, was having an affair with Severus Snape. Why? He hadn't a bloody clue.

Was he bored with his life? Was he gay? Was he having some sort of identity crisis? Or was he simply just a horrible person? He honestly couldn't say anymore, he was so confused. All he knew was that, whenever he was around Snape, things felt different. _He_ felt different. Things would just happen and Harry would have no questions until he got home.

He was having an affair with Snape. He could've taken the time to point out all of the many reasons why it was wrong, why he loved Ginny and wanted to live his life with her, but what was the point? He'd been over it so many times and it didn't do anything except give him a headache.

This was his fault. He'd been weak. He'd _let_ Snape do those things to him. His excuses were slowly starting to drain away, but they weren't being replaced by solid reasons as he'd hoped they would. Reasons would've given him answers.

He was having an affair with Snape, and he needed to bring it to an end. But how?

By now he'd learnt that he was obviously too much of a coward to break things off with Snape face-to-face. He'd already tried that approach and he'd ended up naked up some hill. Whenever he was with him, Harry would be too nervous to bring up the subject and too immersed in the man's presence to do anything about it. Conversation would flow and he'd enjoy the time they were spending together, and by the time he left to go home, he'd be too addlebrained from the unexpected-but-not-so-unexpected orgasm he'd end up having to even remember why he'd been there in the first place. It was all so very counterproductive. And wrong. Had he already mentioned how wrong it was?

Obviously, he would have to write a letter.

Liking that idea, Harry sat up in his chair and reached across his desk for a piece of parchment. He picked up his quill and dipped it in the inkwell.

_Dear Snape._

OK. So far, so good. But now what?

He stared down at the parchment as if expecting inspiration to jump out and hit him on the nose. Longer and longer he waited, his quill poised and ready to write. Time ticked on and still nothing came to him. He sighed, and lowered his hand. This was a lot harder than it should have been.

How on earth did you break up with someone? He'd broken up with Ginny once, but that was completely different – he hadn't _wanted_ to call an end to their relationship; that had been for her protection. This…

Harry let out a small laugh. In a way, he supposed this _was_ for Snape's protection. If Ginny ever found out, she'd kill them both. And, well…his stomach knotted as his mind gently reminded him that he didn't really _want_ to break things off with Snape either. A part of him – namely, his traitorous cock – was enjoying it. A part of him was maybe even a little bit attracted to the older man.

Sighing, he screwed the parchment into a ball and threw it into the bin.

Ignoring his feelings seemed like the best idea he'd ever had. Maybe it would all just go away on its own.

* * *

"Narcissa?"

Harry watched as Andromeda's clothes flew through the air and folded themselves neatly into the suitcase which lay open on the large, double bed. Somewhere out of sight, a door clicked open and Harry heard the chink of bottles knocking together; seconds later, a toiletry bag zoomed into the room, quickly followed by a toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, and several differently coloured vials. One by one, they all dropped into the bag, which then dropped into the case.

Andromeda, standing on the other side of the bed, looked up at Harry with dark eyes as she pocketed her wand.

"Don't start," she warned him.

Harry was affronted. "I didn't say anything!"

"No," she said, "but you were thinking about it and I'm in no mood for an argument. She's my sister, Harry."

"A sister you don't even like."

Ignoring him, she turned on her heel and strolled out of the room. Harry followed.

"Why can't you just write to each other or something?" he suggested, quickening his pace as she stormed down the narrow hallway. "Think how much easier it would be if you didn't have to see one another."

"I _want_ to see her," she pointed out, starting down the stairs. "She was the one who suggested the meeting and the least I could do was agree to it."

"But why?"

They entered the kitchen and Harry came to a halt by the table. Teddy looked up from the picture he was drawing and gave his godfather a bright smile. Harry smiled back and ruffled the boys orange hair before turning back to Andromeda once more.

He'd only stopped by after work to see how Teddy was, and that was when he'd heard the news. He still couldn't believe that Andromeda had been prepared to sneak off to Malfoy Manor without a word, leaving her grandson with Molly and Arthur. Now that Harry had managed to gain babysitting duties, he was determined to at least have his say on the matter.

"They're vile, the whole lot of them," he said forcefully. "I don't see why you would want to subject yourself to that."

"Harry, you're being ridiculous."

"Am I? Really?"

"Look," she said, turning to face him with a huge sigh, "I know she's done a lot of horrific things in the past, but don't you think she's redeemed herself at least a little bit?"

Harry scoffed, but didn't meet her eyes. "If you want to call saving my life 'redeeming herself'…" he muttered.

"And I do," she replied sternly.

It was Harry's turn to sigh. "I know she's not all evil," he admitted grudgingly, "but she's not exactly a nice person, is she. She's with Lucius and she raised Draco – what does that say about her?"

His words seemed to have hit a nerve. He almost quivered under the look Andromeda gave him, but he held his ground.

"She's my sister," she said firmly.

"She's a Malfoy."

"And I'm a Black, or have you forgotten what that name means?"

"She's one of them, too," he added.

With a groan, she threw up her arms in a useless gesture and turned her back to him. Harry watched as she started bustling about the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers, and pulling out boxes and bottles.

"I'm not having this conversation with you, Harry," she said, rather angrily. "What I do, whom I see, and where I go is none of your business."

"I'm Teddy's godfather, of course it's my business!" he retorted. "And when his Grandma goes off to consort with Malfoys, I have a right to know! I can't believe you weren't going to say anything to me. You were just going to dump Teddy on the Weasley's and go off to become a Death Eater's best friend."

Andromeda spun around so quickly that her long, curly hair whipped her face. She stalked towards him and slammed a small, green vial on the kitchen table.

"Is it any wonder I don't tell you these things?" she snapped. "Look at how you're reacting! You're still so prejudiced against them."

"So hating criminals makes me prejudiced now, does it?"

"You certainly had a different view whilst you were testifying on their behalf," she pointed out.

"Narcissa saved my life! I owned her that much, at least."

Andromeda looked ready to argue back, but she clenched her teeth together and took a deep, steadying breath.

"I'm going," she said, in a dangerously quiet voice, "and that's final. I don't want to hear another word about it. Is that clear?"

"Why can't you just go for an hour or two? Why do you have to stay over?"

"I _said_, is that clear?"

Harry had to refrain from taking a step back. When angry, Andromeda's resemblance to Bellatrix was almost uncanny. Her dark eyes bore into him and he nodded, knowing his efforts were useless.

He hadn't meant to argue with her or question her reasons. He was just concerned. After all, he'd had first hand experience at dealing with the Malfoy family and it was hardly what he'd call a jolly, old affair. But still, if the sisters wanted to make peace with one another, who was he to stand in their way? It didn't stop him hating the idea though.

He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. Andromeda moved away again and returned to her packing.

He sighed quietly to himself and looked over at the table. His heart sank as he noticed Teddy was still in the room.

"Hey," Harry said, forcing a smile onto his face. "What you drawing?"

Teddy sniffed. "Why are you and Grandma fighting?"

"We're not fighting," he assured the young boy. "We were just having a little disagreement, but everything's alright now, it's all sorted. OK?"

"It sounded like you were fighting," he said quietly.

"We were just talking loudly," he said. "It's what us silly grownups do." He smiled kindly and looked back at the half-finished picture on the table. "So, what were you drawing? It's very colourful. Are you going to finish it?"

But clearly Teddy wasn't listening. His bottom lip wobbled as he looked up at Harry and his eyes shone brightly.

"Don't cry," Harry said softly, sitting down and pulling the boy onto his knee. "I'm sorry we were shouting. It was stupid of us." He glanced over at Andromeda, who was watching the scene with a frown. "I'm sorry Andromeda," he said to her, purely for the benefit of Teddy; he didn't think he'd ever be OK with the idea of her visiting with the Malfoys.

"So you should be," she muttered, but then she shook her head and came over to join them. "I'm sorry I shouted, Harry," she said to him. She kissed him on the head before bending down and giving Teddy one as well. "I'm sorry we scared you, sweetheart. How about we all go for some ice-cream before I leave, how does that sound?"

Teddy rubbed his eyes with a sniff and nodded. His hair, which must have turned a deep blue whilst they'd been arguing, slowly started to become lighter. Andromeda smiled at him and kissed his cheek before standing up and going to fetch her shoes.

"Am I staying with you, Uncle Harry?" Ted asked, looking up into Harry's face with big, round eyes.

"Yep," he smiled. "Just me, you, and Auntie Ginny for two whole days."

"Will Uncle Severus be there again?"

"Uncle Severus?"

Harry looked up at Andromeda as she re-entered the room.

"Yeah," he said to her, and _why was his heart suddenly beating a hole in his chest?_ "Snape came by the last time I had Teddy. They played cards. No," he said, turning back to his godson, "Uncle Severus isn't going to be there. But Auntie Ginny will. Hey, maybe she'll let you go to Quidditch practice with her? If you ask nicely, I'm sure she'll let you have a go on her broom."

"Can I throw the quaffle?"

"Of course you can!"

As they left the house and headed along Diagon Alley towards Florean Fortescue's, they talked of nothing but Quidditch. Teddy seemed immensely cheered by the prospect of getting to ride on a professional, top-of-the-range broomstick with the entire Holyhead Harpies team and Harry and Andromeda encouraged his enthusiasm, taking great relief in the smile on the boy's face. After they'd eaten their ice-creams, they dropped by the joke shop to say 'hi' to George before visiting Quality Quidditch Supplies, and by the time they returned home, Teddy had forgotten all about the argument and couldn't wait to get to Uncle Harry's house.

For the next two days, Ginny went off to work with Teddy in tow and each time they got home, the young boy was laden with gifts and photographs. The first day had seen him return home covered in lipstick kisses, courtesy of the all-girl Quidditch team, and he'd talked of nothing else for hours, telling Harry how "cool" the players all were and how he couldn't wait to grow up and join one of the teams at Hogwarts.

Ginny loved having him around – she thought he was adorable and "good practice for when we have our own kids." Although she'd assured Harry that she didn't want children any time soon, the idea that it would happen one day was starting to terrify Harry. His life was in such tatters right now that he couldn't bare to think too far ahead. He was determined to sort out the mess he'd created before anything else could happen.

When Teddy returned to his Grandma's on Wednesday evening, Harry felt it safe to think about the things he'd been desperately trying to ignore. He knew now that his feelings weren't going to go away, at least not until he'd taken the necessary action. What that 'necessary action' was, however, was another problem entirely.

Firstly – and he wanted to make this absolutely clear – there were no romantic feelings involved whatsoever. What he felt for Snape was strictly sexual. He had no idea how anyone could be attracted to the git but, well, there you go. That was life, full of unsolvable mysteries. Snape fascinated him. The whole idea of Snape fascinated him. The way he moved, the way he talked, the way he looked at Harry…there was just something so _manly_ about it all, something Harry had never seen in anyone else before. He was obsessed. He couldn't help it. Lust was running through his body and Snape was invading his every thought.

Which brought him to his second point…

He needed to _stop_. Stop thinking, stop wanting, stop needing…His world was starting to revolve around Snape and that was just _not_ on. All he could think about was more. _Just one more time_, his head kept telling him. _Just once more and my curiosity will be satisfied. Just once more and I'll be able to move on._

Well, he'd tried that and every time he'd finished, he'd always gone back. Clearly, he needed something else.

Harry sat in his office, nodding to himself as he listened to his thoughts. Yes, something else was definitely needed. But what? What could he possibly do to quell his desires once and for all?

_Maybe if you _tookmore_, you'll be satisfied…_

Harry stared at the wall as he turned that thought over and over in his head. Could he? Could he really take more from Snape? Maybe if he went the whole way…if he had sex with Snape, actual sex…maybe, just maybe, his body would be satisfied. Yes. Yes, of course. If he took everything then there would be nothing left for his body to yearn for. The reason he was still dwelling on Snape was because there was still more for him to experience. Once he'd done that, he wouldn't feel the need anymore. Yes, it made perfect sense. He had to have sex with Snape!

_But Ginny…_

Harry let out a shaky breath. It was awful and he hated himself for it but, well…what damage could _one more time_ really do? This was going to be the last time. If he didn't do it then he'd always be wondering _what if._ Best to get it over and done with. Just once more and he'd very gladly move on. He was doing this for Ginny…

Ignoring how suspiciously excuse-like that all sounded, he pulled a stack of documents towards him and buried himself in his work.

* * *

As Harry clutched the glass of wine tightly in his hand, he tried not to think too much on why he was there. If he thought too much, he'd chicken out, and then where would he be? No. He had to do this.

He glanced over at the portrait above the fire. As ever, the Dumbledore family were fast asleep, snoozing gently against one another. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Dumbledore awake in that picture before, but knew he mustn't spend all of his time asleep as one of Snape's favourite pastimes was complaining about how Albus liked to stick his nose where it didn't belong. Harry hadn't asked about the subject of conversation and Snape had never elaborated.

He took a sip of his drink and tried to smile over at the man in the armchair. Snape, dressed in his usual black pants and white dress shirt, simply looked back at him. His dark hair fell limply to his shoulders, framing his pale face. His nose was as prominent as ever and his thin lips curled slightly as he realised he was under scrutiny.

"You seem preoccupied," he said, giving Harry the once over. "Is everything alright?"

Harry nodded and gulped down some more of the wine. He wished it was his fifth glass, and not his first.

"I was just, erm…" He trailed off and cleared his throat. "…Just wondering about something," he said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah…"

Silence fell. Harry drained his glass and set it aside. Again, he wished he'd thought of having a few drinks before he'd come here. As it was, he would just have to make do with the confidence that came natural.

"The things that have been happening between us…" he said, looking over at Snape as he spoke, "I think you know it can't go on."

Snape's eyes left him. He swirled the contents of his own drink and downed them in one.

"Is that why you are here?" he asked. "To put an end to things?"

Harry nodded again as he wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. He hated that Snape made him so nervous. Although, he thought, this wasn't exactly an easy situation to be in anyway.

"I just thought that…before we end things…I mean, I guess I'd sort of like to…erm…you know…erm…" God, why couldn't he just say it! Snape was going to think he was some immature kid, not even worth his time. Out with it, Harry. Just say it! "I've been thinking and I've, erm…come to the conclusion…no, that sounds dumb. Er…"

Snape set his glass down on the coffee table and sighed.

"Contrary to what you may believe, Potter, your stuttering is not the slightest bit attractive."

"I'm not doing this on purpose!" he snapped. "I'm nervous, alright?"

"Nervous? What could you possibly have to be nervous about?"

"A lot of things," he assured him.

"Like?"

"Look," he said, shifting to the edge of his seat. "As great as this has been, I'm with someone. I just want to get back to my life and I think its best that we don't see each other from now on."

"Because you'll be tempted?"

"No!" Harry shot back. Snape just looked at him calmly. "No," he said again. "I just think that if we're going to call an end to this then…well, it should be a proper end. We could write to each other?" he suggested.

"Indeed?"

"But before I go…there's something I want. Something I can't stop thinking about. And I don't think I can end it until we do it."

His whole body was pulsing in time with his heartbeat but he looked Snape dead in the eye as he prepared to say what he'd come here to say. He'd made a right hash of things so far and he didn't want to give Snape any more reasons to turn him down. He needed this.

He took a deep breath.

"I want to have sex with you."

The words seemed to hang in the air. Nothing could be heard except the ticking of the clock and as Snape continued to stare at him, he felt his cheeks glow red.

"Well?" he asked, more to cover for the silence than anything else. "What do you think?"

Snape licked his lips.

"I've think you've gone slightly mad," he said, with a hint of a purr. "Did I hear that correctly, Potter? You want to have sex with me? Well, well…"

"You don't have to take that tone, Snape," he said. "This isn't funny! I need this, OK? I can't move on if I don't."

"Really?" He got to his feet and went over to the large cabinet in the corner. His back to Harry, he poured himself a new glass of wine. "So," he said. "You want to use me for sex."

"I don't want to _use_ you," he corrected quickly, getting to his feet and joining Snape. The man's back was stiff and Harry worried that he'd offended him. "I _want_ to do this. The fact that it will help me move on is an added bonus. I _need_ to move on, Snape. And so do you. I'm getting married. But I can't stop thinking about…" he trailed off with a sigh and bit his lip. He hadn't even given any thought to what Snape might want. He'd just assumed he'd be up for it.

"What if I say no?" Snape said quietly. He turned round so that they were face-to-face. "What if I refuse to give you what you want?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. He shook his head and shrugged.

"Interesting," Snape purred. "If I wanted, I could refuse to give you this. I could have you returning here every week…looking for something, needing me." He closed the gap between them and brought a hand up to cup Harry's cheek. His eyes shone with hunger. "Or I could give you what you want. Take what I've wanted for a long time. _Such an extraordinary parting gift._"

Harry gulped. He let out a shaky breath. Snape smiled.

And then lips were suddenly crushed against his own and he staggered back a few paces, clinging on to strong arms to steady himself. He moaned and pressed his body flush against Snape's, opening his mouth for the tongue that was now so familiar after weeks of fumbling about.

The crack of apparition sounded and Harry gasped and stumbled as he found himself in Snape's bedroom – or, at least, what he _presumed_ to be Snape's bedroom because before he could get a good look at his surroundings, he was pushed backwards onto the bed. Once again, Snape's body pressed against his and Harry sank into the mattress, screwing his hands tight in Snape's hair, pulling the man in for another breathtaking kiss. His legs fastened around the thin waist above him and he bucked furiously, shamelessly, each brush sending waves of pleasure crashing through him. His fingers scrabbled at the white shirt Snape wore and it wasn't long before he had it undone, tearing it from the pale shoulders and throwing it aside. Snape's hand trailed down to Harry's arse and he squeezed, bringing their hips together. Harry let out a deep groan and Snape shivered before pressing his tongue further into Harry's mouth as if he thought he could lap up all the delicious sounds.

Harry's shirt was next to go, quickly followed by his jeans as Snape broke the kiss and ripped the offending garment away in one quick swipe. As Harry kicked off his shoes and socks, Snape ducked his head and Harry let out a yell. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and watched as Snape smirked. Underwear was peeled away and Harry was left naked and hard.

"Not fair," he muttered, reaching out a hand for Snape's belt. It took him a while to steady his fingers enough to undo the buckle, but with Snape's help he managed it. Soon, they were both naked and Harry couldn't help but stare at what he saw. Snape's cock – not large, but definitely bigger than his own – was growing right before his very eyes. Licking his lips, Harry reached over and took it in hand. It felt so different to what he was used to, the length and girth completely alien to him. Tentatively, he began to stroke.

"Not like this," Snape gasped out, "Don't want to come like this."

Harry's stomach leapt with joy at knowing he could have this effect on the stern man, but he reluctantly let go of his cock and summoned his own trousers. He fidgeted around in the pockets before pulling out a small, brightly coloured packet.

"A condom, Potter?" asked Snape, his breathing harsh. "How laughably muggle."

Harry tore it open and extracted the rubber sheath.

"I want to take all possible precautions," he told the man. "I know magic's the best but…well, it doesn't hurt to be extra careful, does it?"

Snape sighed but held out his hand all the same. Harry pulled back.

"It's for me," he said.

"You? Wouldn't it be better served on me? I am, after all, going to be fucking you."

"No," said Harry. "I'm fucking you."

Snape's heavy breathing stilled. He glared at Harry.

"Over my dead body," he barked.

"Snape, I've never done this before. I don't want a cock shoved up my arse! I don't know anything about all of that. But I know how to top and that's what I'll be doing."

Snape laughed as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"You can't seriously be expecting me to spread my legs for you?"

"But Snape –"

"No."

Harry opened his mouth to argue but Snape shot him his most deadly glare. He snapped his mouth shut and crossed his arms stubbornly, turning away. "Fine," he said, through gritted teeth, "Then we don't have sex."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

Great. Just bloody great. Here he was, naked and hard and sitting on Snape's bed…and for what? He should have _known_ this would happen. He should have had the sense to realise that Snape didn't want him enough to let him top. He should just gather his things together and leave, be done with the man once and for all. Except…he couldn't. Hope glued him to the bed. The thought of getting up and walking through that door was a shattering one.

"I'm sorry," he muttered into the silent room. "I'm sorry, but I won't bottom. I _can't_."

Harry heard a sigh and when the bed dripped, he was so sure that Snape had stood up to leave. But then he felt a warm weight against his back. Lips kissed his shoulder. A tongue licked his neck. A shiver ran through him and he turned back round to face Snape.

"I'm not bottoming," he told adamantly.

Snape smiled softly as he brushed a stay hair from Harry's face.

"You're adorable when you pout," he told him quietly.

Harry's lips twitched. "That was actually a compliment."

"It was," Snape agreed.

Harry gave a shy smile. "Can I hear some more?"

Snape rolled his eyes and leant forwards to kiss him. He then shuffled back on the bed and lay down on his back. His legs fell open.

"Don't push your luck, Potter," he said. Harry grinned.

* * *

**A/N:** _**Unedited smut is at the link in my profile!**_ Wooo! It's edited from _"Harry gulped. He let out a shaky breath. Snape smiled"_ and onwards. lol and sorry if the one posted here seemed a bit choppy. My idea of editing is deleting random lines! If you read the smutty version, please review here!

So, it's almost 3 in the morning, I have the giggles, I'm listening to random cheesy music, and I'm posting smut. The world is good!

Thank you to everyone for reading my fic! Love you all! xx


	14. Falling

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Falling**

When Severus awoke the next morning he immediately became aware of the warm body next to him. He hadn't forgotten the events of the night before, but was shocked to find the other man still asleep in his bed. Before he'd even yawned or stretched, he'd turned on his side to get a good look at the young man sleeping peacefully beside him.

Severus felt his lips twitch into a smile as he took note of the dark, unruly hair, the rosy lips slightly parted, the smooth, almost flawless skin. Harry's bare chest rose and fell with his steady breathing and for a moment Severus allowed himself to become lost in memoires of the eventful night they'd both enjoyed.

He still couldn't believe it had happened. Of all the things he'd expected, Harry Potter asking him for sex was a fantasy come true. He knew he should have resisted – should have refused to indulge the boy in his desires, should have allowed things to end there and then, should have left Harry to struggle with his own messed up life – but it wasn't easy when you, too, wanted the thing being so desperately requested, albeit for very different reasons.

Harry's motives for last night were questionable and only a gullible person would've truly believed them. When Harry had said he'd wanted to sleep with him, his heart had soared into regions unknown. When he'd then gone on to explain why, Severus had been crushed. He'd stood up and turned his back to Harry, afraid that his face would betray him. It had taken him quite some time to realise what utter rubbish the boy was speaking. He wanted to sleep with Severus to set his mind at ease? He wanted to have sex with him so he could stop dwelling on it and move on? It sounded to Severus that Harry was having some serious doubts about his relationship with Ginny and his developing feelings for his once-hated professor.

So, would Harry be content now? Would he leave Severus alone and get back to his life? Doubtful. The boy's head was in a state.

Severus rolled back over and lay staring at his blank ceiling, letting confusion wash over him. As strange as it was to even contemplate, he was pretty sure he was falling for Harry. He wouldn't go as far as to say "love" but there were feelings there that, when tweaked, did all kinds of things to him. He told himself it wasn't real, that he only felt this way because Harry was the first person in a long time that had shown any such interest in him, but he knew deep down that he was becoming far too attached to the wizarding world's saviour.

The highlight of every week was when Harry knocked on his door. He enjoyed hearing about the Auror's day at work and what silly messes he'd ended up in since the last time they'd spoken. He loved being able to talk to someone about his past and not be judged for all the crimes he'd committed. The man made him smile and there had been a few times over the last couple of months where he'd actually laughed, genuinely amused at something Harry had said. He felt at ease around him. Admittedly, he'd liked playing games; he'd enjoyed immensely watching the hero squirm as Severus dished out all sorts of advances, revelling when Harry gave in to whatever he was feeling underneath all that determined front he put on. But this was no longer a game.

Sighing, he looked again at the young man in his bed. He ached at the thought of this being the end, despite the fact that he was fairly certain he knew what was going on in Harry's head. Severus just wished the boy would come out and admit it.

Turning away, he pushed the covers back and got out of bed, stepping into his slippers. He wrapped his dressing gown around him and made his way along the corridor and down the stairs. He quickly made use of the downstairs toilet and headed into the kitchen in search of his morning refreshments.

As he stood crunching a chocolate biscuit and waiting for the kettle to boil, his stomach turned at the rather large question of "what happens now?" This was an entirely new situation for both of them and he was dreading having to listen to Harry make excuses and fret over what had occurred.

Severus was 42 years old and he'd only ever had sex with four different people in his life. The first, shortly after he'd left Hogwarts, had been a one night stand with a very awkward morning-after scenario. It had occurred during a drunken night out with the Death Eaters and had brought about the start of the endless teasing over his sexuality. Back then, it had all been in good fun and he'd been overjoyed at finally ridding himself of his virginity. Now, looking back, he was ashamed that he'd never even bothered to find out the name of his so-called "conquest."

The second person he'd slept with had also been his first real relationship. Tall with shoulder length brown hair, lean but with a slight muscular build, and a sharp nose to rival Severus' own, Austin Finley had been a Death Eater. After three surprisingly comfortable months of dating, Austin had been killed by the Dark Lord for incompetence and that had been the end of that.

The third person hadn't happened until years later, long after he'd become a teacher at Hogwarts. He'd been drinking in The Hog's Head one evening and had struck up a conversation with a fellow potions enthusiast by the name of Hubert Crutchley. They'd enjoyed a fair few months together before their once friendly and flirtatious competition of trying to out do one another in the lab had turned into all out war. Still, the sex had been good.

And now here he was, over a decade later, with person number four, none other than the famous Harry Potter himself, the second person he'd ever let top during sex. He snorted and grabbed another biscuit from the tin.

Even though he didn't believe that Harry's curiosity, or whatever it was, would be satisfied with just one night, Severus thoroughly believed that the boy's stubbornness would grow tenfold, thus keeping him from engaging in such things from now on.

He sighed and turned back to the kettle. He quickly made himself and Harry a cup of tea – adding one teaspoon of sugar to Harry's, just the way he liked it – and headed back up the stairs, towards his bedroom.

When he opened the door he realised, with a jolt, that Harry was awake. He looked up at Severus with big, green eyes and offered an uncertain smile. Severus groaned inwardly. How was it possible for someone to look so innocent, yet so guilty at the same time?

He stepped into the room and headed for the bed. He sat down gingerly and held out the tea. Harry took it with a muttered "thanks."

Toeing off his slippers, Severus slipped back under the duvet. He blew across the hot surface of his drink before taking a gulp. Next to him, Harry did the same.

Five minutes passed in silence, neither willing to glance at the other. Severus's eyes were more than content to just gaze around the room, looking everywhere but at the man next to him. They settled on an uncorked vial that lay on the floor. With a flush, Severus realised it was the lubricant from last night. He still couldn't believe he'd bottomed, but at that moment he'd been willing to do anything to keep Harry there with him.

He really _was_ falling for him.

He finished his tea and was just contemplating getting another one in order to escape the room when Harry cleared his throat.

Severus turned and Harry smiled nervously.

"I'm sorry I got a little…_carried away_…last night," he said awkwardly. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Severus snickered and set his cup aside. "No," he reassured him. "No, you were very…passionate."

Harry snorted. "That's one way of putting it, I suppose."

Silence threatened to fall again and Severus decided to ask what was on his mind. He was dreading the answer.

"So," he said, trying not to sound as if his insides wanted to see the light of day, "Have your desires been satisfied? Are you cured?"

Harry bit his lip and looked away. Severus heard him let out an unsteady breath. He took a deep one of his own.

"Look," he said, "you may not want to talk about it but you can't avoid it. We had sex last night."

"Yeah, I had noticed that, thanks," Harry muttered

"And what are you going to tell that fiancée of yours when she asks where you were?"

"I dunno," Harry said loudly, with a hard shrug, "I'll just tell her that I'd been drinking or something. That I was too drunk to apparate and spent the night on your sofa."

Severus' lips thinned and he turned away, but not before Harry had caught the sour look on his face.

"What _is_ your problem?" Harry demanded suddenly. "Do you _want_ me to tell her the truth? Do you _want_ me to shout about it from the rooftops?"

"Oh, don't be absurd," he snapped.

"Then what?"

He turned and fixed Harry with an incredulous look. The boy was staring at him with wide eyes and an angry flush was creeping into his skin. Severus didn't know why he was so surprised. He'd _known_ this would happen.

"You're really going to pretend this never happened, aren't you?" he said.

Harry gave him a hard stare before he turned away.

"I told you what this was," he replied. "I _told_ you."

Severus sighed. "And so you did," he said quietly. Then, more confident, he added, "But we slept together, you can't deny it. You _cheated_ on Ginny and you slept with a _man_."

Harry let out a ferocious growl. "What _is_ it with you?" he yelled. "Why are you so determined to…to just…just…_God!_" Before Severus could even react, Harry had thrown back the bed covers. He watched, stunned, as the naked man ran about the room, gathering his clothes.

"This was your idea, Potter," he reminded him. "It was _your_ idea to sleep together, coming over here, _begging_ me. Look at you. You're pathetic!"

"Oh, and of _course_ you had _no_ say in this whatsoever," Harry replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're _completely_ innocent."

Severus scoffed and shook his head, amazed. Only Harry could be so stubbornly in denial, so incredibly naïve, so downright annoying. He watched in silence as Harry struggled into his trousers, stumbled as he slammed his feet into his shoes.

A cold chill descended over Severus as harsh realisation gripped him tightly. Any minute now Harry was going to walk out that door and it was very likely he'd never return. He was going to walk back to a life of questions, a life of regrets, a life so full of holes that it wouldn't be any wonder if the boy fell flat on his face.

He flung on his shirt and headed for the door and Severus saw his last chance.

"You don't know, do you?" he spoke softly. "You don't know what you want. You don't have any idea."

Harry halted.

"You're afraid," Severus continued. "Afraid of people hating you. Afraid of not doing what people want you to do."

Harry shuddered. He turned back to Severus. His face was pained. "You don't understand," he said. "You can't possibly understand."

"But I do," he replied. "More than you can imagine."

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. He sighed and bit his lip. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. I want…I don't…" But he trailed off into nothing, looking as lost as ever.

Severus pushed the duvet back and got to his feet, not even bothering to fasten the dressing gown he still had on. He crossed the room and stood in front of Harry, looking down into that tragic face. He reached for a hand and held it in his own, throwing whatever pride he had left out the window.

"Meet me here," he said to Harry, "next Friday. I want to show you something."

"Snape…"

"Please."

Harry looked doubtful but Severus kept his gaze and, eventually, his expression softened. He gave in with a nod and a small smile, which Severus returned, feeling relief course through his body. Then, probably surprising even himself, Harry leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Severus' lips. Before Severus could decide on what to make of it, Harry had turned; his hand slipped from Severus' grasp and he left the room.

* * *

Harry huddled under the small bus shelter, wrapping his arms tight around himself as the heavy morning traffic rushed by, crashing through puddles and sending water spraying in all directions. Rain bounced as it hit the ground and the men and women of London sped by, ducking under their umbrellas and clutching at their coats.

There were several other people at the bus stop with Harry, all dressed in suits, each one of them carrying a briefcase. They looked more than a little disgruntled at being made to ride the bus thanks to the flooding of the nearest underground station. _They had important things to do, they had to get to work. It was supposed to be July, where was the sun?_

Harry could have laughed but he didn't want to draw more attention to himself. Already he'd attracted strange looks from the businessmen and women. Not that he could blame them. Dressed in trainers, jeans, and t-shirt, he stood out from the crowd. They probably thought he was a troublemaker who'd been out partying all night.

With a shiver, he reached into his trouser pocket and fastened his hand around his wand. He muttered a spell to heat the area around him and settled back on the uncomfortable metal seat.

He wasn't quite ready yet to go home and face the wrath of Ginny. She was probably worried out of her mind and as angry as hell at him for failing to come home. He had his excuses at the ready but lying to her face wasn't easy.

Why was his life so out of control? Why couldn't the world just leave him alone and let him be happy? Why did it always create a drama for him to suffer through?

More importantly, why didn't he feel satisfied? Why didn't he feel guilty?

Something had to be done. Enough was more than enough. He'd gone too far this time. But there was something lurking, something…

He sighed. Where was his life taking him? He'd wandered away from the path that was meant for him, but _why_ was that particular path for _him?_ Was he travelling down that road because that was where everything led? Or was it because it was safe and he _knew_ where it would lead?

And why was he analysing this with such clichéd metaphors?

Was he with Ginny because he was attracted to the idea of marriage, of stability?

Did he want Snape because of his connection to his parents?

Was he simply doing everything for all the wrong reasons?

He didn't know and, if he was honest, he was finding it hard to care. He loved Ginny, but there was just something about Snape that had him completely hooked.

He knew he had to figure things out. He knew he was being totally selfish. He knew he was an awful person, but he just couldn't bring himself to end things with Snape, not yet. He didn't want to. He honestly felt, _believed_, that this was something he _had_ to do, to _experience_, in order to move on in life with a better knowledge of himself. Snape was bringing out sides to Harry that he'd never even been aware of before and he wasn't ready to stop learning. He needed to know why he wanted Severus Snape, his ex-professor, a _male_.

Maybe he didn't have to do anything? Maybe if he left it to run its course…maybe it would all just sort itself out. And in the meantime he would just…enjoy the ride.

He wouldn't think of Ginny. He wouldn't think of himself as a cheat. He would push it all to the back of his mind for when he was ready to deal with the consequences.

* * *

Something hard hit Harry in the head the moment he stepped into the living room. Looking down, he saw a gold Quidditch boot. Looking up, he saw Ginny.

"_Where the hell have you been?"_ she cried, striding round the settee. Her face was dark, her makeup smudged, and her long hair was almost as messy as his own. She glared at him and crossed her arms against her chest. "Well?" she snapped. "I'm waiting."

"Honey, I am _so_ sorry," he said earnestly. "I was at Snape's…I'd been drinking, I slept on his sofa…I'm sorry."

Ginny shook her head. "His _sofa?_" she echoed. "You slept…?" And then, suddenly, she started to laugh. Not a humorous laugh, but a mad, unnerving laugh. "You slept on his _sofa?_ I have been up all night worried _sick_, and you _slept on his sofa?_"

She turned away from him and Harry wasn't sure how to react. He watched as she ran her fingers through her hair and gripped the back of her head, as if to restrain herself from lashing out.

"Do you even have the _slightest idea_ of what I've been through?" she questioned shrilly, no longer laughing, but angry again, wide-eyed. "I haven't slept _one bit_. I've been contacting all of our friends, asking if they'd seen you. I kept expecting the Minister to appear in the fire, telling me you'd been hurt. And all this time you were _too drunk to come home!_"

"Ginny, I'm sorry…"

She let out a weak little noise, something halfway between a laugh and a sob, and collapsed onto the settee. Her head fell into her hands and her shoulders shook.

Harry's heart beat painfully. _He'd done this to her_.

"I'm sorry," he said again, coming to sit next to her. He made to reach out a comforting hand but thought better of it at the last second and pulled away.

"You're sorry?" she said, sounding out of breath. "God, Harry…I've been out of my mind. I thought…I thought something had happened to you…that someone had…" She swallowed. Her eyes shone as she turned her face towards him. "Don't ever do that again!" she shouted. "You hear me?"

Harry nodded and this time he pulled her into a hug. She arms fastened around his waist and she lay her head against his chest, sniffling.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm so sorry. I should have let you know…I didn't think." He looked down at her shaking figure. He kissed her hair. "Come on," he said. "Let's get you to bed. You look exhausted."

"I can't," she said, pulling away from him and rubbing her eyes. "I have work."

"You need sleep," he said. "I'll call Gwenog and let her know you won't be coming in."

"Harry, I can't…we have to practice for our next match."

"You can't fly like this," he told her gently, "you'll hurt yourself. Come on," he added, "Bed."

She sniffed and sighed. "Fine." She got to her feet and rubbed her eyes again. "But I haven't forgiven you, you know. I'm still mad at you."

"I know," he said quietly.

She gave him a soft smile before leaning down and kissing him.

"Arsehole or not, I'm glad you're OK."

Harry smiled at her and watched her slump out of the room.

His lies had done this.

* * *

"So," said Harry, swinging his arms and looking about the room, "what is it you wanted to show me?"

It was Friday evening and, after much deliberation, Harry had decided to follow up on his promise of returning. As curious as he was to find out what Snape had to show him, he'd found that he'd wanted to visit, regardless.

He watched as Snape buttoned himself up and held out his hand. "Come here," he said to Harry.

Harry took a few steps, crossing the room to stand in front of the man. He felt himself blush under Snape's intense gaze. Snape smirked and offered Harry an arm.

"Hold on tight," he said. "I'm going to apparate us."

"Where are we going?"

Snape let out a sigh. "Do you ever do as you are told, Potter?"

"Not usually," he answered with a grin. He rolled his eyes at Snape's impatient look and gripped his arm.

"Good boy," the man smirked, but before Harry could come up with any sort of response, the familiar squeezing sensation of apparition overtook him, taking the breath from his lungs.

The first thing Harry saw when his feet found solid ground again was green. He looked around. They were stood at the base of a small hill, trees decorating the landscape behind them. He could hear the fast, steady rush of traffic – most likely a motorway, he thought – and from somewhere ahead the sounds of shouting and laughing children.

"Where are we?" he asked, letting go of Snape's arm. Snape shook his head and started up the hill. Harry trudged after him.

The ground was soggy from the rain they'd been having and his feet slid in the mud. A simple drying spell took care of that problem and he followed Snape to the peak of the grassy mound, eager to survey his surroundings.

"This way," Snape said, starting down the right side of the hill. Harry stood for a moment and glanced around. To his left, where a river meandered, he saw in the distance a large housing estate made up of hundreds of terraced houses. A large chimney belonging to an old factory overshadowed the area.

"Is that Spinner's End?" Harry asked, jogging to catch up with Snape.

"Yes," he said. "But we aren't going there. This way, come along," he added, climbing over a wooden stile in the fence. Harry followed, gravel crunching underfoot.

They had joined a footpath that ran alongside the river. Just ahead, Harry could make out more houses, larger than the ones on the estate and fewer in number. It wasn't until they passed a children's playground that it dawned on Harry where they were heading.

He'd seen this place in one of Snape's memories but had never actually been here himself. Visions of a younger Snape came back to him as they passed a set of swings and Harry's heart sped up.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, Snape looking determinedly ahead, Harry glancing around at everything they passed. A flower shop sat neatly on the other side of the bank, along with a fish and chip shop, a newsagent, and a laundrette. When they reached a small stone bridge crossing the river, Snape veered right, off up another path, slightly up hill, and soon they were entering the small neighbourhood of detached and semi-detached houses.

His first thought was that it looked remarkably like Privet Drive – sparkling windows, mowed grass, shiny cars parked in driveways – but the more he looked, the more the smaller details jumped out at him. Ornamental gnomes, bird baths, rainbow-coloured pinwheels...if anything, it was a smaller, more modern version of Godric's Hollow.

"We are here," said Snape, coming to a stop opposite one of the houses. He sat down on a bench. Slowly, Harry joined him.

Number 18 didn't have any garden ornaments decorating its lawn. Instead, a colourful flowerbed ran around its borders. A small apple tree took pride of place in the middle of the grass.

"Your mother planted that tree," Snape said quietly, and despite the fact that he was addressing Harry, it sounded like he was lost in his own memories. "A few days before we left for Hogwarts she dug a hole and buried an apple seed. A year later it had grown into a large sapling. Well," he added, with an amused snort, "I say 'grown'…I rather suspect her father went out and bought an apple tree to plant in the seed's place."

Harry swallowed. "Did you know my grandparents well?" he asked.

"Well enough," he replied. "I was invited to dinner on a number of occasions." He looked at Harry softly. "They were wonderful people."

Harry nodded but didn't say anything. He was thinking back to the thing's he had seen in Snape's memories and, not for the first time, it struck him how hard it must have been for Snape to lose such a friendship. Had he ever tried to talk to Lily during the summer holidays and make up for his behaviour?

He looked around him, taking in the comfortable little village. Had his father, James, ever visited here? Had he ever sat down with Lily's family for a meal like Snape had done?

"My Aunt Petunia never talked about this place," he said to Snape. "She never talked about my parents unless it was to insult them, and she hardly ever spoke about my grandparents."

"Yes," said Snape, with a half scowl, "Petunia was very much the jealous type. She couldn't have magic so she decided to hate everything about it, even her own sister."

"There were never any photographs around the house," he said quietly. "I remember once coming home from school and asking my Aunt if we could go and see Grandma and Grandad – the other kids had been talking about visiting their grandparents at Christmas and I wanted to go, too. She just yelled at me that I didn't have any." He looked to Snape. "When did they die?"

"About two years before you were born," he told him. "Your grandfather had a stroke. Your grandmother had cancer." He seemed to hesitate before continuing. "My friendship with your mother was already ruined by then but I attended the funeral, unbeknownst to Lily. I overhead an argument; Petunia was shouting, blaming Lily for the death of their parents, taunting her that magic couldn't solve everything." Again, he hesitated. "What was life like growing up with your Aunt and Uncle?" he asked.

Harry let out a snort. "Everything you'd expect it to be and more," he replied dryly. "I wasn't their nephew, I was their…" He stopped, and sighed. "I want to say 'slave' but that sounds so melodramatic, doesn't it?" He laughed humourlessly. "It used to annoy me so much the way they'd go on and on about how grateful I should be. They took me in, put a roof over my head, gave me Dudley's old clothes." He snorted again and went on. "I ate when I'd finished doing the housework, the roof over my head was a cupboard, and I never had anything that was my own. And I hate myself for forgiving them. And during the war, I hated myself for wanting them to be safe. Pain would have been no more than what they deserved." He paused. "I hate that I'm so weak."

Snape let out a bark of laughter. "You are _not_ weak," he said. "You're one of the strongest people I know and the fact that you can forgive your family just confirms that. Don't ever think otherwise. You're a good person, Harry. You give people far more chances than they deserve."

As strange as it was to hear such good things coming out of Snape's mouth, Harry shook his head. A stray lock of hair fell in front of his eyes and he pushed it away.

"I'm not a good person," he mumbled.

"You are."

"No," he said, firmly, "I'm not. Look at me. Look at what I've done, what I'm _still_ doing."

Snape gazed at him sadly and Harry wished he knew what the man was thinking. Did he pity Harry? Did he feel even the slightest bit of guilt for the position they were in?

"I'm sorry," Snape said, getting to his feet. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I thought –"

"No," Harry said quickly, standing. "No, I'm glad you did. Really. I love hearing about my mum and her family. It makes me feel that much closer to them. I'm the one who should be apologising. You were doing a nice thing and here I am, going off on a 'Poor Harry' rant. It's just…" He trailed off with a hard sigh, wondering how far he should go. "I like you," he admitted awkwardly. "More than I should. And I don't know what to do. I shouldn't be feeling like this."

Snape was silent and his expression was unreadable. In all honestly, Harry didn't know if he was going to be laughed at, if this was all some sort of game after all, or if he'd just opened up yet another opportunity for them to get close.

"We should go," Snape said finally. Slowly, he stepped around Harry and started down the lane.

Harry's heart filled with disappointment. "That's it?" he couldn't help but say to Snape's retreating back. "I tell you how I'm feeling and you just ignore me?"

Snape stopped and turned. "You said yourself you shouldn't be feeling like that. I'm doing you a favour."

"Well, maybe I don't want favours," he said, walking over to where Snape was stood waiting. "Maybe…maybe I just…" But he couldn't say it, didn't even _know_ what he was trying to say. He just wanted Snape to take control so that he didn't have to _think_.

"Just kiss me," he settled on, and Snape did.

* * *

**A/N:** Nothing to rant about today except that I can't get "Evacuate the Dancefloor" out of my head! Might have something to do with the fact that I have it on repeat. Anyways, my cat says "hello". Or "meow!" She smells like wet cat...because she's all wet lol.

OH!! Did anyone see the meteors? I didn't. I sat up all night and I'm doing it again tonight lol. I've never seen a meteor shower before and I'm determined to see one! Just looked out the window and I think people may have the same idea - not a single house light on on the whole street! Knowing my luck I've missed it though.

Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far. Keep 'em comin'! I'm glad you're all enjoying it!


	15. A Nasty Bump

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: A Nasty Bump**

"Happy Birthday!"

Harry's rigorous years of Auror training melted away into nothing as he stumbled through the door and into the room of crimson-clad grinning maniacs. He quickly tried to school his features into his best "oh my, is this for me?" expression and looked around the room as his colleagues set off dozens of party poppers. A large banner with his face on fluttered overhead and bright, colourful streamers dangled from the walls and ceiling.

He sighed. The previous Head Auror hadn't had to put up with this sort of stuff.

"No, you're not getting the day off," he told the room at large. There was a collective groan and everyone turned back to their work, mumbling to one another.

Harry rolled his eyes and smiled and made his way over to his office.

Jeremy, dressed in light blue robes, gave him a cheerful grin as he greeted him and handed Harry the usual morning stack of files – documents that needed signing, court dates he had to attend, reports of crimes that had been made. He thanked him and opened his office door, depositing the work on his gift-laden desk.

Deciding that the presents were far more important that anything in the numerous folders, Harry sat down in his chair and grabbed hold of the nearest present, which was wrapped in shiny red and gold paper.

Every year he told his friends not to get him anything (honestly, he'd be more than happy with just a card!) and every year they dished out the goods. Ron's presents were becoming more and more muggle and Harry rather suspected that Hermione was letting him loose in London whenever they went shopping – remote control cars, mini-bars with little mini-drinks, popcorn makers, and homemade ice-cream machines. Harry grinned as he set this year's present – a sweet dispenser – aside. No doubt Ron would be along soon enough to "test it out" and "suggest" Harry keep it here in the office.

George had sent him a selection of the latest Weasley creations as was his usual way, and Hagrid, whom he hoped he would be seeing tonight at The Three Broomsticks, had sent him all of his favourite sweets and chocolates from Honeydukes. Hermione, much to his amusement, had bought him a fancy metal plated business card holder – yesterday, for the sixth time that week, Harry had dug into his pocket to hand out his card to a burglary victim he'd been dealing with and had dropped them all over the floor. Well, the holder ought to sort that problem out. She'd also sent him a rather stunning atlas of the wizarding world, which pictured and gave detailed descriptions of all the magical places across each continent.

He smiled and pulled the next one towards him, which turned out to be a gorgeous set of robes from Andromeda (who, by the way, was now visiting her sister once a week, a fact which Harry was doing his best to ignore.) Along with the robes, she'd sent him a picture which Teddy had done especially for his Uncle Harry's birthday – it depicted a squiggly looking Harry and Teddy playing Quidditch together, complete with a moving quaffle and everything. That went straight onto his wall and took pride of place.

Once he'd finished opening his presents he started on the many cards. McGonagall and Aberforth had sent him birthday wishes, along with Kingsley, Neville and Hannah, Charlie, Luna (who wrote that she wouldn't be able to make it tonight as she and Rolf – who Harry _still_ hadn't met! – were stuck in South Africa tracking Fwoopers), Mrs. Figg, Dudley (it was 'cards only' between Harry and the Dursley's now, never any visits and that was just fine), and his friends from work.

After he'd binned all the wrapping paper and envelopes, he arranged all the cards neatly around his office, trying to occupy his time until he absolutely _had_ to start on the pile of work. Work should be banned on birthdays, he thought as he levitated the cards around his desk, trying to decide where each of them should go.

There was a knock on his door and before he could pretend to look busy, the door opened and in walked Ron. He grinned at Harry and nodded at the sweet dispenser.

"I see you got my present," he smiled, closing the door and walking over to the item in question. "There're all sorts of muggle sweets in there, you know – gummy bears, smarties, little fruit things. I even threw in some fizzing whizbees. Is it alright if I test it?"

It was Harry's turn to grin. "Help yourself."

"Nice one," he said, and he grabbed up a paper bag and turned the switch on the dispenser. "Yep, it's working pretty good. Hey, I reckon you should keep this here at work…"

The day went by pretty fast, with nothing more exciting happening than a wife displaying her immense talent at Transfiguration by turning her husband into a toad. After that little debacle had been dealt with, Harry ate lunch with Ron and Hermione and gossiped about how Malcolm, the new security guy, had been caught in bed with Ruby, the receptionist, by his girlfriend Helen, the witch who worked in the Transportation Department, who was now dating Dave from Accounting. You had to keep up with these things!

"So," said Hermione, as they headed for the lifts and back to work, "are you looking forward to tonight?"

Ginny had arranged a little get-together for Harry's birthday. Harry had insisted that he didn't want to do anything, but she'd insisted that they _must_ so they'd settled on a meal and drinks in The Three Broomsticks for family and close friends.

"Yeah," he said, pushing a button to summon the lift. "It'll be nice to get out and see everyone again."

"Pity we have to get up for work tomorrow," Ron said, "otherwise we could have made a proper night of it."

"Nah," he replied, "I don't really feel like making a big fuss. Besides," he added, "Ginny's throwing me a bit of a private party this weekend so I have that to look forward to." He winked.

Ron screwed his face up and threw his hands over his ears. "Why would you _tell_ me something like that?" he moaned.

Harry laughed and patted him on the back.

"Well, I think it's really sweet," said Hermione, ducking the flying memos and stepping into the lift. "It's so nice to see a young couple so in love."

Harry's smile faltered but he forced it back into place before anyone could notice. He busied himself with pressing the numbered buttons on the panel – 4 for Hermione, 2 for himself and Ron.

It had been three weeks since he'd upset Ginny by staying out all night, but she was completely over it now, laughing and joking and being her usual happy self. Her team, the Holyhead Harpies, had been knocked out of the European Championships by a side from Italy but it hadn't affected her spirit at all; if anything, it had made her more determined. The Premier League was coming up in a few months and already she was training hard.

When Harry wasn't working, their time was devoted to each other and the things that were important to them. They were forever going out for meals in London, going clubbing with friends, taking Teddy and Victoire to the cinema, or watching plays in the West End. They'd even helped Molly and Andromeda find premises in Diagon Alley for their new café, each using their own fame to promote the place and gather business for the two grandmothers.

Their nights in were even better, spent with each other and Ginny's wide range of naughty lingerie. He loved it when she wore black, especially the lacy knickers, stockings, and suspenders which she saved for special occasions. Yes, things between them were just as passionate as ever.

So passionate that no one would ever guess he was having an affair.

When he was with Ginny, he forgot about Snape.

When he was with Snape, he forgot about Ginny.

Things with Snape were heating up and Harry felt powerless to stop them. Snape had rapidly become this whole other side to Harry's life, so much so that it was rather like having an alter ego.

They didn't go out for meals or shows or any of that other fancy stuff he did with Ginny. No, Snape preferred to stay in. At a stretch they would go to the pub, and sometimes they took walks around Godric's Hollow, but most of their time was spent at the cottage, eating, talking, and doing the gardening.

They'd had sex twice more since that first time.

Harry hadn't bottomed yet, although the idea was starting to appeal to him. _But what if he did it and Ginny noticed something different about him? _He didn't even know if there _would_ be a physical change, but he was too shy to ask Snape and too nervous to find out for himself. But the thought of having Snape fuck him, and then going home to sleep with Ginny…everything was far too messed up for him to even attempt to get his head around it. All he knew for certain was that ignoring the problem made it go away. _How was that for logic?_

But this thing with Snape wasn't just about sexual pleasure. He enjoyed the time he spent with him, even if the whole evening was devoted to talking about potions and Auror work. He relaxed around Snape…it was almost as if he could be himself. Snape knew Harry was having an affair, Snape knew Harry was having doubts…he didn't have to pretend around him like he did with Ginny. Severus Snape knew what Harry Potter was all about.

Well, he would just have to put his guilt and his doubt to the back of his mind again. It made life so much easier, yet it did nothing to sooth the queasy feeling in his stomach.

"Level Four, Department for the Regulation and…"

"That's me," said Hermione. She kissed Ron briefly on the cheek and hopped out of the lift as the doors slid open. "I'll see you later, Harry," she waved at him, and she set off down the corridor, dodging a large puff of smoke that issued from a room and merrily greeting a rather regal-looking Centaur as she went.

* * *

"Happy Birthday!"

This time a genuine smile graced his face as he stepped into bustling room. There were no decorations here, but the large table surrounded by his friends was filled to bursting with party food and presents. A new song – "As Strong as a Troll" by Megan McCaree, the winner of the WWN's singing competition, Wizard Idol – was playing in the background, but Harry could barely hear the words over the din of the pub.

He'd just started to make his way over to his friends when Molly got to her feet and rushed over to him. She pulled him into a tight hug, muttering about how she was going to have to do something to fix his hair for the wedding. When she pulled away, she kissed him on the forehead and led him to the table, where she plonked him down into a seat.

As Arthur got the drinks in, Harry took the time to greet everyone one by one. Hagrid was there, as he'd hoped, and he spent a good five minutes talking about what magical creatures he'd managed to acquire for his lessons, and updating Harry on how Norberta (though Hagrid still called her 'Norbert') was doing in Romania. She was a fully grown dragon now and her first ever egg had hatched just days ago.

Percy and his wife, Audrey, were also there and they had brought along Molly, who had grown so much since Harry had last seen her in April.

"Babies suit you, Harry," Percy said as Harry bounced a giggling baby Molly on his knee. "You better watch out though; Ginny has her eye on you."

Harry looked up and Ginny gave him a grin.

"Don't worry," she said with a wink, "We're not having any kids until after the World Cup."

"Which gives you three years, so you'd better start preparing now," Percy said, darkly. "Babies are expensive and a lot of hard work."

"Yeah, but she's so beautiful," Harry cooed, tickling her tummy.

Then Arthur returned to the table with the drinks and Harry handed baby Molly back to her father before being bombarded by Victoire and Teddy, urging him to open his presents.

From Bill and Fleur (who had just found out they were expecting their second child) he received a new holster for his wand, as his old one was as ragged as anything. Victoire had given him a brightly coloured self-inking quill that wrote in all the colours of the rainbow. She'd been so proud of herself when she'd handed him the small package, telling him that she'd picked it out all by herself. Harry had given her a big hug and a kiss on the head.

Percy's present turned out to be a stack of 'How To' books, including "How To Be The Best Boss You Can Possibly Be In Five Easy Steps!!" Audrey's gift voucher for a large ice-cream sundae at Florean Fortescue's (which was now run by Florean Forestcue Jr) made up for it.

In addition to the delicious-looking cake sitting on the table, Molly had also whipped up yet another of her famous woolly jumpers which, birthdays and Christmases combined, were starting to fill his wardrobe. This latest one was in blue, the same shade as his Head Auror robes.

"You can wear it under your robes when it gets a bit chilly, dear," she'd said with a bright smile.

After that, all the presents had been done and Molly had declared the food ready to eat.

He was starved. He'd only had a sandwich at lunch and so, tummy grumbling, Harry reached for his plate and stacked it high with pizza, chicken, and sausage rolls.

As he ate, he let his eyes drift over the people gathered around. He wasn't surprised at how happy they all seemed; apart from the occasional disagreement, (and not counting his words with Andromeda), there hadn't been a serious argument amongst them for years. He loved the Weasley's and everyone connected to them. They were all such a nice bunch of people, the best you could ever hope to meet, always giving and never asking for anything in return. They looked out for one another, even Percy with his ego and pompous ideas. Once a Weasley, always a Weasley.

He smiled to himself and took a sip of his butterbeer.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," said a voice he recognised as Neville's. Harry watched as he slid into a nearby chair, crumbs all down his top. His eyes were wide as he leaned in. "So," he said, in rather conspirative tones, "did you hear about Luna?"

"That she wasn't able to make it?" he said. "Yeah, she sent me a card." But Neville was shaking his head.

"No," he said. "About Rolf?"

Harry frowned. "What about him?"

"He asked her to marry him," Ginny said, leaning over and joining the conversation. "And she said no."

"Can you imagine?" Neville went on, practically bouncing in his seat at the gossip. "Saying no to Rolf Scamander, the grandson of _the_ Newt Scamander!"

"Did someone say Newt Scamander?" boomed Hagrid from the other end of the table. "I could teach 'im a thing or two 'bout raisin' magical creatures."

"I'm sure you could, Hagrid," Molly smiled, patting his large hand. "More pie?"

Harry turned back to Neville and Ginny. "What's Rolf like, anyway?" he asked. "Have any of you actually met him?"

"Well, no," said Neville thoughtfully, "But I'm sure he's really nice and stuff."

"Either that or he's some crazy stalker trying to get into Luna's knickers," Ginny snorted, stealing a slice of pizza from Harry's plate.

Harry slumped. "What if he is?" he asked. "What if Luna's out there with some lunatic? What if she needs our help?"

Ginny looked mock-indignant. "Should I be jealous of how protective you're being?" she teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Seriously, one of us should meet him," he said.

"If you'd give Ron the time off work," Hermione butted in, "we'd be more than happy to go." Ron nodded enthusiastically.

"Ha," laughed Harry. "I'm not falling for that one again. The last time you used that you said you were going to Romania to visit Charlie for a few days."

"We did!"

"You went to America," he pointed out.

"We took a detour," Hermione responded.

Harry snorted. "You took a holiday," he said. "And you took a _lot_ longer than a few days."

Ron laughed as Hermione stuck out her tongue. Chuckling, Harry returned to his food.

As the evening wore on, the chatter and laughter grew. At one point, George had taken centre stage when his drink had been spiked with one of his own creations, leading to him doing impressions of a Hippogriff for at least half an hour before Angelina had taken pity on him and had administered the antidote. Now that he was back to normal he was challenging his sister, Ginny, to a drinking contest, although they were being rather discreet about it, huddled at the bar so that their parents or Percy couldn't see.

After downing a hearty meal, Arthur had taken Molly for a spin around the makeshift dance floor. Now, the grandmother was fully immersed in conversation with Andromeda and Arthur was busy taking turns to dance with Hermione, Angelina, Fleur, and Audrey. Even Harry was feeling rather daring, though his "moves" didn't go beyond letting Teddy and Victoire stand on his toes as he moved about the floor to the fast music.

When he was finally able to return to the table he loaded a few more sausage rolls onto his plate in front of him and looked around at his friends. Molly and Andromeda were still at the other end of the table, no doubt discussing new recipes and design ideas and the like. Harry snickered. Work never seemed to end for those two.

George, looking very much worse for wear after losing the drinking competition to Ginny, was now across the room in a dark corner with Angelina, and Hermione was watching in disbelief as Ron helped himself to yet more apple pie. Percy seemed to be trying, and failing, to engage his sister-in-law Fleur in talks of politics, and Bill and Audrey were looking on bemusedly.

For the next ten minutes or so he just sat back and watched the world around him, enjoying the feeling of belonging and tapping his foot in time with the music. Ginny was now dancing with Teddy and, despite himself, Harry couldn't help but wonder what a child of his own would look like. Would it have Harry's green eyes? Ginny's red hair?

"Severus?"

His insides suddenly turned to ice. He spun around at Arthur's voice, almost knocking over his glass of butterbeer. There, with his great black robes and long, oily hair, was Severus Snape.

"Arthur," Snape greeted. He shook the other man's hand. "It's nice to see you again."

"You too," Arthur smiled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What brings you to The Three Broomsticks?"

"Ginevra invited me." And then, slowly, he turned. His eyes met Harry's, who gulped. "I hope you don't mind."

Harry's heart was pounding and he knew his eyes were as wide as dinner plates. He opened his mouth to say something, closed it, and looked over at Ginny. She gave him a small, shy smile from across the room.

"Not at all," said Harry, quickly finding his voice. "Please, pull up a chair, grab some food."

Snape did so and, as Harry watched, everything seemed to become a big blur. Snape was here and Ginny had invited him. Ginny was being nice and Snape was _here_ and they were all here at the same time, all together, because Ginny had invited him and _Snape was here._

He couldn't hear anything. Couldn't focus. There was a buzzing sound in his ears, a dead sound, a haze that was drowning out all other noises and it was getting louder and louder and…

"Are you alright?"

Harry looked up. He blinked. Hermione was peering down at him, her brow furrowed.

"Yeah," he said, forcing himself to form words. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" He gave her a smile.

She frowned and gazed at him some more, her dark eyes flickering over his face. He tried hard to school his emotions and just when he thought he was going to break out in a sweat, she shrugged and turned away.

Harry let out a breath and turned to Snape, who had taken the seat next to him, to his right. He watched, barely able to believe his eyes, as the man loaded food on to his plate, as casually as anything. When he bit into a meat and potato pasty, Harry snapped.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded in a fierce whisper. He'd thought they were done playing games, but here was Snape, acting like crashing Harry's birthday party was something he did every day.

Snape looked at him calmly. "I was invited," he replied.

Harry waved a dismissive hand. Invited, crashing…it was all the same to him.

"Do you turn up to all the events you're invited to?"

"I wouldn't know," he drawled, "I'm not invited to that many."

"Don't give me that shit, Snape!" he growled. "You're here because you saw a chance to cause trouble."

Snape's face darkened. He dropped his food back onto the plate and leaned in so close that, for one terrifying moment, Harry thought he was going to kiss him. "If you wish to refrain from causing a scene then I suggest we have this conversation elsewhere, or not at all," Snape snarled.

Harry gritted his teeth. He stood up. "Outside," he said, his voice dull. He waited for Snape to get to his feet before heading through the crowded room and out the door, out into the warm air of the summer evening. Once he'd marched a little way down the street, towards the closed sweet shop, he turned a corner and made his way into a deserted alley.

"Out with it Snape!" he said, spinning on his heel. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you, I was –"

"Invited, yeah, I got that, thanks. I want a real answer."

Snape opened his mouth but closed it again, apparently thinking better of whatever it was that he'd been about to say. He looked at Harry for a few seconds, calculating, taking everything in. He then folded his arms and leaned against the brick wall.

"I am here," he said, calmly, "because it's your birthday."

Harry glared.

"I missed you?" Snape tried, with a smirk.

Harry shook his head. "I'm with Ginny right now. You can't be here."

The smirk slid from Snape's face and his eyes grew hard. He pushed himself away from the alley wall and glowered at Harry.

"And what," he snapped, in his most deadliest voice, "is that supposed to mean? Do you want me to wait my turn in line, is that it?"

Harry groaned. "Don't be like that. You know the situation. I'm with my fiancée right now, you can't just turn up!"

"It was your fiancée who invited me."

"You didn't have to show up and you know that! You did it on purpose, to mess with me, to play stupid games!"

Snape let out a bark of laughter and threw his hands in the air. He gave a mock bow. "And once again, the world revolves around Harry Potter."

Harry darted a quick glance around the alley to make sure they were still alone, before snapping, "Why can't you just take things seriously? Why do you have to do this?"

Snape growled. "I do take things seriously, Potter. Do you really think I came here to flirt with you? To flaunt our affair?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," Harry uttered.

"Unbelievable. You really are just…" Snape trailed off with a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. He began to pace to alleyway with slow steps, looking back at Harry with every turn. Harry just stood there, entirely unsure of what to do. He needed to return to the party but he didn't want to leave things like this with Snape.

He opened his mouth to suggest they talk about this later when a package was thrust into his hands. Surprised, Harry looked up.

"What's this?" he asked Snape, holding up the thin parcel.

"A gift," Snape said. "For your birthday. It's not much," he added.

Harry stared at it. "You got me something?"

"It's not much," he repeated. Harry swallowed and gave the man a small smile before pulling the gift out from its wrappings.

His breath caught in his throat. Smiling warmly up at him from a muggle photograph were his grandparents and his mother. They were standing in Kings Cross Station, just by the barrier that led to the magical platform. Lily had on her Hogwarts uniform and was stood proudly between her beaming parents, a tall dark-haired man with a kindly face, and a fair-skinned red-haired woman with glasses.

"I took that," Snape said quietly, "just before we left for our first day at Hogwarts. Your grandparents gave me a copy of all the photographs."

Harry stared. Despite the thin, bony structure of his grandmother – very much resembling that of her daughter, Petunia – she looked kind and welcoming, something which his aunt never had.

Harry shook his head. "I can't accept this," he said, holding out the picture for Snape. "It's yours, something to remember them by."

Snape shook his head as well. He pushed the photo back at Harry. "It's been stuffed in a box in the attic for years," he told him. "I have no use for it. It's yours now."

Harry looked back down at the photograph and felt all his anger melting away. Everyone who knew him knew how important family was to Harry, but only Snape seemed to understand, only Snape seemed to share that desire to hold on to the past.

His chest tightened painfully as, once again, he realised that the position they were both in was very much in Snape's favour. Not that Harry cared much. He didn't want to be mad at him.

He glanced at Snape, who was stood uncertainly in front of him, then back down to the picture in his hand. He smiled playfully.

"Are you using my grandparents to try and seduce me?" he asked.

Snape smirked. "Possibly. Is it working?"

"Like a charm," he replied, and he stood on tip-toes and pulled Snape in for a kiss.

It started off slow and gentle, a tender, caressing kiss, fingertips dancing across the back of his neck as his tongue sort out warmth and wetness, his body tingling. But when Snape slammed him up against the dirty wall, knocking the breath out of Harry's lungs, all tenderness disappeared to be replaced with desperate passion.

Harry moaned into the devouring mouth, loving the feel of Snape's hard body once again pressed so closely to his own, trapping him. Wriggling, he managed to get one arm free and he wrapped it around Snape's neck, using it to steady himself as he rubbed his rapidly growing erection against Snape's.

Snape let out a deep growl and Harry gasped as he felt himself hoisted into the air a few inches. His back scraped painfully up the brick wall, but he didn't care. He tugged hard at Snape's hair, dug his fingernails into the back of his neck, pulling him as close as he could possibly be, so close that Snape couldn't even manoeuvre his hand in between them to undo Harry's belt.

For the second time that night, a loud, blank noise filled Harry's ears, a buzzing sound, a deep rumbling from far off that was getting louder and louder. Snape moaned and Harry felt it vibrating in his very ears. He moaned back and tugged harder at Snape's dark hair, pressing his tongue deeper into the other mans mouth, the noises getting louder, nearer, until he heard his own name called out.

Only…Snape was still kissing him, and that voice had sounded pretty clear.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he let go of Snape, pushing the man away. Snape stumbled, looking frustrated. Then he froze. Harry whirled around.

"Mr. Potter?" The uncertain words came from a stunned-looking, blonde-haired wizard; Harry's assistant, Jeremy Jenkson, stood at the entrance to the alley.

A horrible, prickling sensation broke out all over Harry's body as his mind worked rapidly to catch up with the sight he was seeing with his eyes. Was that _really_ Jeremy stood there, looking at them, eyes bulging, mouth slightly open? It must be, for he had the same coloured hair, the same rectangular face, the same light blue robes he'd been dressed in only hours before at work.

Well. This was it then. His life was over, that much was clear. It had been an interesting ride, but one that had gone on far too long. There was no way he was going to be able to talk himself out of this one.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his trembling hand, he took a step forward.

"Wh…what are you doing here?" he asked; the fear he'd felt when facing Voldemort all those years ago was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

Behind him, Snape straightened his robes and stood up straight. He looked merely annoyed at the interruption as he watched Jeremy, waiting for his answer to Harry's question.

"I'm…I'm out," he said, still rather stunned. "With friends. We went for a drink after work." His eyes moved from Harry, to Snape, and back again. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Harry felt a flush heat his cheeks. The numb, buzzing sound was back, but this time it was accompanied by a cold, stabbing sweat.

"Jeremy," he said, approaching the man; his eyes were pleading and he felt like crying. "You can't say anything. _Please_. It's just a one-off thing. It's not going to happen again."

To his horror – his absolute horror – Snape snorted. "A one-off thing?" he laughed. "Is that what you children are calling it nowadays when you sleep with someone three times?"

Jeremy's eyes grew, if possible, wider. Harry closed his own, breathing deeply. He couldn't believe this was happening.

How had his life come to this, being caught in a back alley snogging a person who wasn't his fiancée? He should never have followed Snape that day in Diagon Alley. He should never have allowed curiosity and temptation to get the better of him for one single second. Because now everyone was going to get hurt – Ginny was going to have her heart broken, Hermione was going to be so disappointed, the Weasley's were going to hate him and disown him. And it was all Harry's fault.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter, don't just stand there hyperventilating!" he heard Snape snap at him. "Just Obliviate him so we can get this over with."

Harry opened his eyes in time to see Jeremy frantically fiddling with his robes. He pulled out his wand and pointed it, shakily, at Snape.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Well?" he said, turning to Harry. "Are you going to do it or not?"

Harry looked at Jeremy, his trembling assistant, then at Snape, his stern lover. "I…can't," he found himself saying. "I can't just –"

But Snape had pulled out his own wand in one long, elegant sweep. "Fine," he sighed, aiming it at Jeremy. "Never send an Auror to do a man's job. _Oblivi–_"

"_Stupefy!_"

A hot, red beam shot at Snape, who had to jump quickly to the side and block the spell with his wand. When he righted himself he looked angry, though a little shocked. He rolled up his sleeves as he prepared to retaliate.

"Let's see what you do with this one, boy," he growled, and he sent _Incarcerous_ at Jeremy, who dropped to the floor just in time to avoid the spell, though his wand went rolling down the alley.

"_Accio wand!_" Jeremy cried. Seconds later, Snape shouted "_Expelliarmus!_" and the wand went soaring through the air. Snape caught it with triumph and pointed his own wand at the man on the floor. "_Oblivi–_"

"Stop it!"

Harry had jumped in front of the spell, blocking it, and sending it bouncing off through the alley and into the air. He held his wand out, looking between both men.

"Wands away!" he ordered. "Now!"

"Potter," Snape started, sounding exasperated, but Harry glared at him.

"No one is being Obliviated, is that understood?" he said loudly.

"Don't be so dense, Potter," Snape spat. "If you let him go he'll tell everyone, and then where will your precious little engagement be?"

Harry bit back his anger and pocketed his wand.

"Jeremy's not going to say anything," he said. He held out his hand to help Jeremy to his feet. "Are you?"

Jeremy looked dubious and more than a little pissed at having ended up on the ground, but he accepted Harry's hand all the same and got to his feet.

"Please," Harry begged quietly. He summoned Jeremy's wand from Snape and handed it back to him. "Please don't tell. Whatever this is with Snape…I'm working on it. Please."

Jeremy took the wand, his eyes still flicking cautiously between his boss and Snape. Harry could only imagine the sorts of things that he was thinking, could imagine the conversations they would be having the next day. His stomach churned.

"Please," Harry said again, looking Jeremy in the eye. If Harry couldn't convince him, couldn't force him…

But then, slowly (and to Harry's great relief), Jeremy nodded.

Harry let out a breath.

"Thank you," he said earnestly. "Really. Thank you."

Jeremy muttered something inaudible whilst Harry fixed his own robes and ran a hand through his mussed hair. He looked gratefully at his assistant. "I'll answer any questions you have about this tomorrow," he said, praying the subject wouldn't ever be touched again. "But right now I need to return to the party. Do you want to…" He trailed off, indicating in the direction of the pub, inviting him to join them.

"No thank you, sir," Jeremy said. "I should go and meet my friends."

Harry nodded. "Right. Well…I'll just be off. See you tomorrow." And without even seeing if Snape was following or not, he headed out of the alley and around the corner, his feet automatically carrying him away from the awkwardness.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.

But it was. His lies were affecting more and more people.

What was wrong with him?

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry about the long wait (again!) I've had a bit of a nightmare month. Which is also why I haven't responded to a lot of people's messages, because I've been avoding checking my email. But I'll get right on that now, since I totally forgot that I can see my messages on this site as well now! lol

Thanks for all the lovely reviews! I always love reading them.

xx

**A/N2:** Just re-uploaded because I noticed a stray sentence had somehow worked its way in during the first upload! Grrr. If you spot anymore, please let me know lol.

x


	16. A Step Back

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**A/N: **SORRY! I know it's been quite a few months since I last updated but I've been super busy with work and life and some bad things happened, but I have more time on my hands now and seem to be back in a writing mood so hopefully updates will start being frequent again. Thank you all so much for waiting.

**OK, so since it's been a while, here's a reminder of what's happened so far**: Harry and Snape started being friends and meeting every Friday, when Ginny found out she was angry but has finally forgiven Snape for the things he's done (and even invited him to the wedding), Harry and Snape have been sleeping together and it's been going on for a couple of months now (slept together 3 times, Snape on the bottom), Teddy saw Snape at Harry's house, and in the last chapter Harry's assistant caught them making out in an alley on Harry's 23rd birthday. Hope that helps!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: A Step Back**

Harry jumped, startled, his hot coffee spilling down the front of his Auror robes, as a knock sounded on his office door. Heart beating thunderously in his chest, he cursed and threw his now empty cup away, pulling out his wand with a trembling hand and spelling away the burning liquid for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"Who is it?" he called out, managing to keep the quiver from his voice – he couldn't believe he was _this_ jumpy. Though, he reminded himself, he had every right to be.

"It's Sam," a gruff voice answered. "Can I come in?"

"Er…" Harry hurriedly put his wand away and sat down at his desk, grabbing hold of a few files - he was getting quite good at looking busy. "Yeah. Come in."

The door opened and a large wizard entered. He had wavy brown hair that fell to his shoulders, a bushy beard, and muscles that bulged underneath red robes. His bright eyes flickered around the room before landing on Harry. He smiled.

"I finished that job up in Huddersfield," he said. "Is it alright if I get off early? Only, it's my son's birthday, you see. He's five and he's invited half the town round for a party."

Harry blinked, let out a silent breath, and smiled at Samuel.

"Sure," he said kindly. "You should have said something sooner, you could have had the afternoon off."

Samuel shuddered. "Are you kiddin' me? My wife was taking them to Wee Wizard Warehouse this afternoon – two hours of hyperactive kids jumping into ball pools, climbing things, and throwing pizza around." He shuddered again, looking repulsed at the very thought, and Harry let out a chuckle.

He remembered when they'd taken Teddy there for his fourth birthday last year and it had been nothing but screaming children, flying objects, and sugary drinks. The headache had been worth it though to see Teddy and his friends enjoying themselves. Though he couldn't say he was looking forward to having a repeat performance with his own children one day.

He _was_ going to have children. With _Ginny_. After they were _married_.

Harry's insides squirmed.

"OK, well, you can go," he said to Sam, forcing a smile. "Have a nice time. Wish him Happy Birthday from me."

"Aye, will do," he said, with a nod. He turned to leave and Harry's eyes followed him to the door.

"Hey, Sam," he said, sitting forward in his chair. "Is Jeremy out there?"

Samuel looked back. "Yeah," he replied. "He's sitting at his desk. You want me to get him –"

"_NO!_"

Samuel took a step back, alarmed. If Harry had been in any other mood than the one he was in, he would have laughed at the comical expression plastered across the stunned-looking Auror's face.

Yet again, Harry had to force a smile. He snickered humourlessly and shrugged his shoulders.

"No," he said again, calmly. "That's alright. Thank you. Enjoy the party."

Samuel frowned, his forehead wrinkling. He looked at the door, then glanced back at Harry, opening his mouth. Harry sighed inwardly.

"If you don't mind me asking…" Sam started slowly. "I mean…I'm not intruding or anything, but…is everything alright?"

Harry pretended to look surprised at the question. "Of course," he said.

"Really? 'Cause you're acting a lot stranger than usual."

Harry laughed and waved a dismissive hand, brushing away his colleague's concerns. "Really," he said. "I'm fine. Enjoy your evening." _Get out, get out, get out._

Luckily, Sam knew a dismissal when he heard one. With one last nod, he exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Harry deflated and fell back in his chair.

He couldn't go on like this. He was completely and totally on edge. He had to see Jeremy at _some_ point during the day, but right now avoiding him seemed like the best idea he'd ever had.

He needed to make sense of things but his mind just didn't want to cooperate. That didn't come as any surprise – he'd been putting things off for so long and now here he was, letting a whole bunch of situations get totally out of hand. Again.

Yet another person had been drawn into his web of lies.

Ginny was oblivious, Snape was angry, and Jeremy knew…and Harry was once again faced with a decision he just didn't want to make. He couldn't even begin to organize his thoughts. If someone had asked him to put down on paper what he was thinking, he would have stared at a blank page for hours on end.

He hadn't seen Snape since the events in Hogsmeade last night. He'd returned to the party and Snape hadn't followed. Luckily, Ginny had had too much to drink (thanks to rematch after rematch of drinking games with George) so she hadn't been in the mood to make love when they'd returned home. Harry didn't know how he would have coped if she'd been sober and up for it – his whole body ached with guilt, confusion, and worry.

Well, he thought as he let his head fall into his arms, at least he could do something about that last one. All he had to do was talk to Jeremy and see where things stood, but the thought of facing the man who knew about his dark treachery was painful.

_Be a man, Harry! You've messed everything else up._

He groaned into his folded arms before lifting his heavy head. He poked a white panel with his wand, the magical intercom.

"Mr. Jenkson? Could you come in here please?" The dread could be heard in his voice and he hoped nobody was near Jeremy's desk.

"Right away, Sir," the reply came and seconds later the door opened.

Harry was glad to see he wasn't the only one suffering from nerves. Jeremy's fingers were fidgeting with the ends of his sleeves and the bright smile that usually lit his face was crooked.

Harry sat up in his chair and gestured for the other man to take a seat, which he did after closing the office door.

Harry took a deep, silent breath.

"Mr. Jenkson…Jeremy…" Hands folded on desk, fake smile in place – it was like second nature. "We're friends, right?"

Jeremy's eyes bulged and he nodded. "Sure."

Time for that awkward smile again, but this time with teeth. He nodded, as if satisfied with that answer.

"Great," he said. "And erm…how are things with you?"

"Yeah," said Jeremy, "Yeah, they're good."

Harry nodded. "Good. That's good. Can't have my assistant unhappy. A happy assistant means a happy…erm…everyone else..."

Jeremy's large, bright eyes grew wider.

"Mr. Potter…are you firing me?"

"What? No. No, of course not. Where would you get an idea like that?"

Jeremy dropped his gaze to the hands folded in his lap.

"Last night…" he muttered.

"Last night has nothing to do with work, Mr. Jenkson," Harry said seriously, and he dropped the false smile. He sighed. "Look…I know that…what you saw must be a large burden. I can understand that. And I know that you're a good person and you want to do the right thing. I'm not angry that you found out. I mean, it was an accident – anyone could have seen us. We were completely careless. And I'm sorry that you-"

"Sir," the other man interrupted, "can I just say something?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm not going to tell anyone about what happened."

"You're not?" Harry exhaled a painful breath.

"No. But I…I want you to know that…well, that I…I want you to know…"

"You can say it," Harry told him. "Please, don't worry about watching your words with me."

Jeremy gulped and he looked Harry straight in the eye.

"I want you to know that I think what you're doing is wrong."

The words hung in the air between them, the sound of them bouncing around the room, repeating again and again. It wasn't long before Jeremy lost his nerve, dropping his gaze back down into his lap.

And then, suddenly, it was like something had been unlocked. Harry's heart ached and he couldn't stop the words from falling from his mouth.

"I know," he said quietly. "Of course I know. I've tried ending things with Snape but I…I just _can't_. Every time I try…." He shook his head. He pushed his chair back and got to his feet, pacing up and down. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what's wrong with me. For _fuck's sake_, he's a guy and he used to be my teacher and he's _Severus Snape_ and…and I'm getting married. Why is this happening?" He turned on his heel and looked desperately at his assistant, as if he held all the answers.

Jeremy looked a little startled at the sudden promotion to Harry Potter's confidant.

"I don't know…" he stammered.

"I'm a good person," Harry said, nodding, and sounding quite insane. "I don't do terrible things on purpose. I don't try to hurt others. You understand that, right? This is all just some crazy thing that's happened. I _love_ Ginny."

"If you loved her, I don't think you'd be cheating on her," he muttered.

Harry glared.

"Sorry," Jeremy blushed.

Harry's face dropped and he fell back into his chair.

"Don't apologise," he said. "It's true. If I _was_ devoted to her I wouldn't be doing…this." He snorted. "I wouldn't be doing Snape."

"Maybe…Sir, I know it's not my place to say but…maybe…well, have you tried ending things with Miss. Weasley instead?"

Harry stared at Jeremy.

"Ginny? Finish with Ginny?" The very idea sounded alien.

"You said yourself that you can't end things with Mr. Snape. Maybe there's a reason for that?"

Harry grew silent as he tossed the thought around in his head. Whilst it was glaringly obvious that _something_ needed to be done, was breaking up with Ginny really the way to go? It had never occurred to him – at least, not seriously anyway – that he should stay with Snape and finish with Ginny – he'd always believed it should be the exact opposite. After all, the reason he couldn't end his affair with Snape was because of purely selfish reasons – he liked the excitement, the change of pace. He liked spending time with Snape. Could he really live a life with him?

But he was already shaking his head.

"I couldn't possibly…Ginny and I, we're…we're getting married. It would break her heart."

Jeremy shrugged, a frown on his face.

"She's going to get it broken anyway," he said quietly. "Do you really think that she's not going to suspect that something's going on? The longer you leave it, the more harm it's going to cause."

"If I leave her, her family will hate me," Harry insisted.

"How do you think they'll feel when they find out about the affair? They _will_ find out, Mr. Potter. These things can't stay hidden forever."

And when the terrible truth _did_ come tumbling out, Harry would be able to look back on this moment and curse his very existence. Jeremy was right – it needed to end. Ginny wasn't the only one who'd end up hurt.

"Do you love Mr. Snape?"

Harry looked up.

"No," he said automatically.

"So you're cheating on your fiancée because…?"

Now _that_ was the question!

Harry shook his head, unable to think of an answer. He looked steadily at his assistant, the bright faced, ever eager Jeremy who, until now, had always seemed to worship him.

"You're the only person I've talked to about all of this," he told him quietly.

"I gathered," he replied.

Harry sighed deeply and looked about his office. The fake warm sun was shining through the fake glass window, and his desk clock was ticking away the seconds. The files on his desk lay untouched, as they had done for most of the day - just the thought of opening them and sorting through everything was enough to give him a headache.

Well, he couldn't stay here. He couldn't concentrate, not now.

"You wanna go get some coffee?" he asked Jeremy, and without waiting for an answer he stood and headed for the door.

* * *

"What are you doing, Severus?"

Severus's whole body tensed at the sound of that voice and dread shivered down his spine. He allowed himself just a few seconds of weakness in which he stood ridged, eyes closed, before forcing himself to move.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he said curtly, lifting a glass bottle. "I'm pouring myself another drink. Want some?" He held the glass out towards the portrait over the fire and Dumbledore frowned.

"You know that's not what I meant," he said softy.

A sneer curled Severus's lips. "Yes, of course. Even when _dead_, the old man can't resist sticking his nose where it doesn't belong." He downed a mouthful of the amber liquid and grimaced. "Don't you ever tire of interfering? One _would_ think you'd grow out of it, especially now you don't have a heartbeat or a body or even a _life_."

His words appeared to have no impact, however, as Dumbledore pressed on - it was just like Albus to not let a little thing like _death_ keep him from expressing his _concerns_.

"Harry's been spending an awful lot of time here lately," he said quietly. "And you came home in such a dreadful mood last night. I'm just worried about you, dear boy."

Severus sighed and brought a hand up to his temples, rubbing at them wearily. This, right here, was the downside to having one of the most powerful wizards of all time stuck to your living room wall.

He downed another mouthful of scotch and stared at the painting. The painting stared back.

Whilst Severus had never seen the inside of Azkaban - for which he was eternally grateful - he'd been imprisoned in a whole other way. Hogwarts had been both his paradise and prison cell, Dumbledore his friend and keeper. But that sentence had been fully served long ago. He was a free man now.

"Albus," he ground out, "I am a grown man. If I wish to spend my time with Harry Potter then that is what I shall do, whether you like it or not."

"I'm not trying to dictate to you, Severus. I just don't want to see you hurt. Affairs don't lead to happy endings."

Severus took another swig from his glass, staring straight ahead at the old fireplace. He wasn't going to let Albus get to him. He wasn't going to listen to what Albus had to say. The old man knew nothing! This didn't concern him, a mere canvas painting hanging on a wall. This was Severus's time to live.

"I am so very disappointed in Harry."

Severus closed his eyes. He didn't want to listen to this but there was no way he was getting up and leaving the room. This was his house now.

"He should have known better," the old man went on. "He shouldn't be doing this to you…and to young Miss. Weasley."

"I am _not_ going to end up old and alone like you, Albus," he said in a low growl. His head snapped up and his eyes sought out Dumbledore's. He didn't care about the pain he found in them, didn't care that the other occupants of the portrait had woken up.

"Not once in your life did you allow yourself the pleasure and comfort of a companion," he said harshly. "Not once did you put yourself before others. The students and that bloody school, that's all you ever cared about. Well, not me, Albus. I'm selfish. I don't care about anyone else's needs but my own."

* * *

Harry watched as the small amount of sugar he'd just emptied into his cappuccino slowly sank beneath the surface, swallowed up by froth and chocolate dust. He reached out and emptied another packet into his cup, watching with a sort of dull fascination as that, too, sank into the depths of his drink. The two marks that the lumps of sugar had left on the surface looked like eyes and he smiled as he reached for another packet, this time emptying it in the shape of a mouth.

"Wow…" Jeremy climbed up onto the stool next to Harry and looked around the busy room. "I've never been in a muggle coffee place before. Is this what they all look like? Wow…"

Harry snickered and glanced about the room. Whilst Starbucks did boast an open and light environment, it actually looked pretty similar to the various pubs and cafés scattered up and down wizarding Britain, the kind he knew his assistant visited after work. He supposed it was the modern furniture that had Jeremy so in awe, but Harry personally preferred the old worn and torn armchairs and settees of places like _The Three Broomsticks_ and _The Leaky Cauldron_.

The shop was quite full, mainly with students and businessmen, and every single one of them seemed to have a newspaper or laptop or book opened up in front of them. The green-aproned employees were busy dashing from one table to the next, wiping the surfaces down to make way for the queuing customers - more students with big bags and businessmen with briefcases.

Harry's roaming gaze returned to Jeremy, who was dressed in his long black robes. He'd toyed with the idea of asking his assistant to change into something more muggle-appropriate (Harry _was_ Head Auror after all - he had to think about the Statute of Secrecy and all that other stuff) but really, this was _London_ - it was very likely that no one would even notice what he was wearing, let alone care, and even if they _did_ they'd think he was some fancy lawyer or politician or something.

Harry glanced down at his own attire - his worn jeans and baggy jumper. He may not have cared too much about what muggles thought of wizarding dress, but there was no way he'd ever walk through the busy streets of the city in eye-catching crimson robes.

Sighing, he reached for a spoon and stirred his cappuccino. As he lifted the mug to take a sip, he caught sight of Jeremy staring at him. He mentally braced himself and blew across the hot surface of his coffee.

"Mr. Potter? Can I ask you something?"

"There's no need to be so formal here," he said. "You can call me Harry."

Jeremy nodded. He lifted his own mug, took a small sip, and swallowed.

"Harry, sir. Can I ask you something?"

Harry bit back a smile. "Of course," he said. "Go right ahead."

Jeremy opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, then closed it once more. He seemed to hesitate for a few more moments as he looked across the table at Harry before deciding that a few swigs of his hot chocolate would cover for his silence.

"Please," said Harry, "don't hold back. You certainly didn't back in my office." He offered a friendly smile. "What's on your mind?"

Jeremy placed his mug back on the table.

"How…how long has it been going on? With you and Mr. Snape?"

Harry considered before lowering his eyes to his steaming mug. He'd been expecting that question all day and had been surprised when it hadn't come up during their exchange in his office before. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the smell of coffee, before letting it all out in a sigh. Now was the time to bring some honesty into his life and he found that he rather welcomed the prospect.

"Since the middle of May. Sort of." He looked up. "Remember that day when we caught Davidson and McCulloch?"

Jeremy nodded.

"Well, that's when we first kissed. Actually, _he_ kissed _me_ and I just freaked out. It wasn't until a few weeks later that things started…happening…between us."

"And you don't love him, right?"

"Right," Harry said with a nod.

"Because you love Miss. Weasley?"

"Exactly."

This time, Jeremy sighed. He took deep gulp from his drink before looking back at Harry, who suddenly felt like he was about to be put on trial.

"You already know what I think you should do, sir," Jeremy spoke quietly. "You need to end things with one of them. It's not nice."

"I know that," Harry groaned out, "but which one? Every time I try to do it with Snape I just lose my nerve, and I can't even begin to imagine calling time on my relationship with Ginny. I've been with her much longer, and we've shared so much together. I don't want to throw all that away like it was nothing."

"It won't _be_ nothing, though," Jeremy said forcefully. "It's not like the experience of it all will vanish once you decide you don't want it anymore. You'll always remember it for what it was."

Harry snorted, staring down into his cappuccino. "And what _is_ it, exactly? A romance that's destined to fail? A desperate attempt to cling to something normal?"

Jeremy didn't answer. He frowned and gave a small shrug.

"I know I love Ginny," Harry went on. "And I know that we could have a future together. As exciting as this thing is with Snape, I was with Ginny first and I intend to stay with her. I mean…Snape's just some…some twisted sort of fantasy that I've been playing out. Seriously, what sort of future could I _ever_ possibly have with him?"

"But you're having an affair! There must be some reason for that, surely? There must be a reason for why it's still going on."

Closing his eyes, Harry let his head fall into his hand. Despite how good it felt to finally be sharing this with somebody, getting his thoughts into coherent sentences was proving difficult, not to mention confusing. It was like his whole being just couldn't decide what it wanted - one minute he'd be feeling a particular thing, and then the next it was something completely different, and whenever he felt as though he'd manage to come to some form of conclusion he'd be filled with nothing but doubt.

Why had he made friends with Snape? Because the man had seemed lonely, because Harry had been grateful for all that he'd done, because he'd wanted a connection with his parents, because Snape deserved to have someone care.

Why had the affair started? Because being with Snape had felt new and exciting, because he actually liked the man's company, because they got on so well together.

Why was it still going on?

"I…I suppose," he said, opening his eyes but still not looking at Jeremy, "I suppose I _like_ being with him. I like making him happy. He's had such an awful life…and when I make him happy…knowing that it's _me_ that's doing that to him, that it's _me_ making him feel that way, that he's _letting_ me….that he _wants_ me…" He bit his lip and looked at the other man, lost.

Jeremy, however, looked quite shocked.

"Pity? You're with him out of pity?"

Harry's eye's grew wide and he sat up straight, almost knocking over his drink.

"No! That's not what I meant. Of course it's not pity, I…" He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm not really making much sense. It's hard to explain."

His assistant seemed to think on that for a second, then nodded and picked up his drink. Harry frowned and tried again.

"I like the way he looks at me," he said slowly, speaking as the words scrambled for attention in his mind. "I like that I can make him look at me like that. We're so different yet so similar. And we have history together, you know? He's helped me out so many times when I didn't even suspect a thing, when all I ever did was hate him." He sipped some of his drink. "And we've seen into each other's minds - how many people can say that? We knew so much about one another before any of this even started. I don't have to hide anything from him."

"But you do with Miss. Weasley?"

Harry shrugged. "Sometimes. I had to hide my friendship with Snape for a while. And obviously there are parts of me she doesn't know about, parts that I've only just discovered myself. I'm having a _gay_ affair, for crying out loud! The fact that I enjoy a man's company in that way…of course she doesn't know. Even if I just liked the _idea_ but never indulged…I could never tell her. Who wants to know their fiancé is thinking about gay sex? Who wants a bisexual for a husband?"

Harry had to force down the emotion that welled up at those words. Voicing all this was hitting all the wrong nerves.

"So you're bisexual then? Not gay?"

Harry waved a hand. "Does it really need a label? Whatever this is…that's what I am."

"But you just said -"

"I was just saying, giving an example…"

"But this is serious, Harry. If you don't want to decide your sexuality then at least decide who you want to be with. You can't carry on like this."

Harry glanced up. "Who do you think I should be with?"

"Well, that's not really for me to say, is it," Jeremy said sternly.

Harry groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

"What if…OK, lets just say that I leave Ginny to be with Snape. What if it doesn't work out? What if spending all that time together drives us both insane?"

"Then you would have gotten what you deserve," Jeremy muttered into his drink.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Jenkson," he snapped. "I know I'm being a heartless bastard right now but do you really have to comment on it?"

"Well, I'm sorry, but this is just all wrong," he replied loudly. "You can't string one along until you know you'll be alright with the other. It's not like buying a new pair of shoes and returning them when they're not quite as comfortable you'd thought they were. These are people's _lives_ you're messing with. And…and quite frankly…right now, I'm ashamed to call you my boss."

* * *

There was a loud clink as the bottle of firewhisky collided with the side of the glass in Severus's hand. Steadying his movements, he poured himself a more-than-generous amount and downed it in one long gulp, not wincing once as the liquid burnt it's way down his throat, warming him from the inside out. He swayed on his feet and he reached out a hand to grip the back of the armchair. A moment later, the feeling had passed and he turned his attention back to the portrait above the fireplace.

"Did you ever regret it?" Severus's words were soft, quiet, and he watched Dumbledore's face frown.

"Not meeting someone," he added. "Did you ever regret it? If you could do your life over…do you think you'd allow yourself more?"

Albus answered after just a few seconds pause.

"I'm happy with how my life turned out, Severus. I made some wrong choices here and there, and I regret a great number of things. But I wouldn't change anything. I helped and inspired many people."

Severus wasn't surprised at that answer, but it didn't satisfy the need in him to know more, to niggle the old man until he admitted weakness and heartache, until his own pain didn't seem so bad.

"You spent your entire life alone. Surely at some point you craved a companion? Surely you craved to…to be held by comforting arms…" (he snorted at the image that conjured up) "…to hide away from the world with the person you loved. And surely even _you_ craved sex."

Again, Dumbledore frowned, his bushy grey eyebrows drawing together above his wrinkled forehead.

"Is that what it is? Love? Is that what you and Harry share?"

Severus scowled and turned his back. "This isn't about me," he snapped. "This is about _you_ - you and your…your…" He growled and dropped down onto the sofa, still scowling to himself, his hand still clutching his empty glass.

He looked up and fixed Albus with a hard stare. "Lies," he sneered. "All of it. Why can't you just admit it? Admit that you felt human desires just as much as the next person did! Why do you have to dehumanise yourself like you're some sort of _god_, some _god_ that doesn't need to lower himself to the most basic of human needs?"

He was angry now, not to mention a little drunk, spitting his words out from between clenched teeth. He was full of energy, completely on edge, his foot jiggling up and down, his fingers drumming the side of his glass. Any minute now he felt he would explode.

He hated Albus. The man had always given such lectures on love, like it was some sort of magical power, some sort of antidote to all of the world's problems, that it was the greatest gift a person could ever hope for.

But had Albus Dumbledore, greatest wizard of all time, Headmaster of Hogwarts School, ever felt something more than that platonic love he'd had for everyone around him? Had he ever felt passion, or been consumed by desire and pure wanton need? How could the man presume to even _begin_ to understand any of this if he'd never experienced it himself?

Harry Potter. The very name filled Severus with equal amounts of dread and excitement.

His thoughts soared back to the time when Harry had arrived on his doorstep, asking - practically _begging_ - Severus to have sex with him. In the morning, Severus had woken up first and for a long time he'd just watched Harry sleep. He'd been so happy with the development, but so afraid of losing the boy. Miraculously though, Harry had returned.

He couldn't imagine _not_ seeing Harry. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to go back to his old routine. The boy saw things in Severus that no one else had ever done and he welcomed the change Harry brought to his life. For reasons unknown, Harry wanted him and if he ever left, Severus would sorely feel the gap.

Love? Yes. This was love. He felt it in every vein, every nerve, every muscle. Somehow, and against his better judgement, he'd managed to fall in love with Harry Potter. But this feeling he was experiencing, this ache in his chest, this heavy weight that sat in his stomach - in all honesty…it didn't feel that great. It didn't feel like that magnificent, powerful, all-consuming feeling that Dumbledore had always talked about. It didn't seem like an answer to a single problem. It didn't make him feel giddy or lightheaded or any of that other stuff.

It hurt. It hurt deep down inside of him and he felt it so acutely that he would be more than happy to never feel it again.

Love. What the hell did Dumbledore know?

* * *

**A/N:** Please review if you liked it. And review if you didn't - it's good to know what works and what doesn't lol. xx


	17. A Plan of Action

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: A Plan of Action**

"Do you think we should invite Kingsley? I know he's a dear friend but he's also the Minister. I don't want to over-advertise the place. Harry, dear, what do you think? Should we invite Kingsley to the opening?"

Harry dropped the pine chair he was levitating behind the table in the far corner and turned to look at Molly. She was sat at a small square table by one of the large bay windows; a stack of envelopes and invitations sat in front of her to her right, a list of names and a bottle of blue ink to her left.

Harry shrugged. "Kingsley enjoys your food," he said. "I'm sure he'd love to come."

"He's right, Mum," said Ron, taking a step back from the picture he'd been hanging. "You, him, and Dad are good friends, thanks to all that stuff you did together in the Order."

"Yes," she worried, "but I don't want to seem like I'm taking advantage of his position as Minister for Magic."

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who grinned.

"Mum, seriously, just send him a bloody invitation. He'll probably be offended if you don't."

"I suppose you have a point," she said with a frown. Then, quite suddenly, her face turned hard. "And don't you use that language in front of me, young man! You're never too old to receive a telling-off from your mother."

Ron gulped and Harry chuckled, glad to see that Mrs. Weasley could still fill her youngest son with such dread. He turned back to his job of levitating furniture.

The grand opening of Molly and Andromeda's café - not forgetting Headquarters for their already flourishing catering business - was only two weeks away. Family and friends had all pitched in to lend a hand with the decorating and furnishing of the acquired premises in Diagon Alley. Whilst Harry was busy setting up the tables and chairs, Ron was occupied with putting all the pictures and portraits up onto the walls, a step up from the wallpapering he'd been doing a couple of hours ago, which had been a very messy, very sticky, job even _with_ magic. Ginny and Hermione were in the kitchen setting up all the work surfaces, and George and Angelina were in the stockroom doing a stock-take of all the plates and bowls, knives and forks, and so on, though Harry rather suspected they were doing a _lot_ more than just inventory.

Harry set the chair down at the other end of the far table and looked about the room. It was a cosy looking place, he thought, not too modern, but not so overcrowded that it looked like _Madam Puddifoot's_ in Hogsmeade, either.

The light oak floorboards went really well with the white scrubbed tables and chairs, and the checkered tablecloths (in assorted colours - red-white, blue-white, and green-white) gave the place a homely atmosphere, along with the differently patterned cushions tied to each chair. The walls were full of paintings and photographs of some of the most scenic places in Britain, and a black chalkboard hung on the wall above the counter, which would be used to display the day's specials when the café opened. The counter itself had a large, glass cabinet which would be full of fresh sandwiches, and the cabinet in the corner of the shop would be used for cakes.

The kitchen was at the back of the building and Harry thought it looked very much like the Weasley's kitchen back at The Burrow, but tidier and with more storage space. There was also the stockroom, where all the tablecloths and cutlery and things were stored, and a customer toilet. The Headquarters for the catering business were upstairs but Harry hadn't seen there yet.

Overall, the place looked extremely tidy and, apart from one or two details, ready for business. He hoped it would do well; Molly and Andromeda had put so much time and effort into getting this started and it would be such a shame if things didn't go as planned. Just because their catering company had been such a success didn't mean the café would as well, but he was sure that once word got around of how good the food was, people would be queuing up outside for a taste.

Smiling, Harry pointed his wand at the next chair stacked against the wall and began levitating it across the room.

"Do you want me to stick this in the window, Mum?"

Harry looked over to see what Ron was talking about. His friend was holding up a large square menu, the one that would be placed on display so passersby could see what food and drink the café had to offer.

"Yes please, Ron," Molly smiled. "There's also one of those that needs going on the wall by the counter, if you would."

"Sure thing," he said, and he pulled his wand out of his pocket to perform a sticking charm. Just as he was about to cast it, though, George came into the room.

"Whoa there, little bro," he said, hurrying across the room and grabbing Ron's wrist. "You don't want to be hanging that in the window yet, Mum," he said over his shoulder.

"I don't see why not," she said, frowning. "How else will people know what we serve?"

"Do you _want_ the competition stealing your ideas before you've even opened?"

Molly tutted. "Oh, don't be silly, George," she said, waving a hand. "They wouldn't do that."

ButGeorge shook his head. "You have far too much faith in people, Mum." He pulled the menu from Ron's hand and replaced it with a stack of fliers. "Here," he said. "Make yourself useful."

"And just _what_ am I supposed to do with these?" Ron asked, waving them about.

"What else? Hand them out." George ruffled Ron's hair, who ducked away from his brother, annoyed.

"I'm not handing out all these! There's hundreds of 'em!"

"Well, the place isn't going to advertise itself, is it? I've been handing them to all the customers in the joke shop for the past week. It's your turn."

If Molly hadn't been in the room Harry was pretty sure he and George would have been treated to a string of swear words. Mindful of his mother's presence, however, Ron settled for looking disgruntled and grumbling under his breath.

"You coming, Harry?" he asked, stomping towards the door.

Harry really didn't want to, but… "Yeah," he said. "Just let me finish this. I'll catch you up in a bit."

The bell over the door rang, indicating Ron's exit, and George chuckled.

"So easy," he said with a grin. He turned to Molly. "We've finished the inventory," he said. "Everything's accounted for. Now what?"

"Oh, well, let me see…" She consulted a list. "There's not a lot left to do now, love. You can start sending all these invitations out, if you want? That would be a big help."

"Sure," he smiled. He grabbed a handful of the addressed envelopes. "I'll ask Ginny and Hermione if I can borrow their owls." And he left the room.

Harry cast a silent charm to levitate the last of the chairs. He took his time guiding it across the room - maybe if he stalled long enough the world would take pity on him and a comet would hit Diagon Alley, preventing him from going out on the street and handing out fliers with Ron.

"Now then," Molly muttered to herself, shuffling a few pieces of parchment around her table. "Just a few more left. Minerva…no, no, I've already done hers. Ah, yes, of course. Harry, dear? Do you think Severus would come?"

The chair he'd been levitating crashed to the floor. He felt his cheeks burn as he redirected his wand.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "I wasn't concentrating. What were you saying?"

Molly frowned, but didn't comment.

"I was wondering whether Severus would like an invite. I don't want to exclude him."

Harry shrugged. "It's up to you. Do whatever you think is best."

She looked thoughtful, then smiled. "Yes," she said. "I'll send him one. He needs to be more social. It'll do him good." She dipped her quill in the pot of ink and scribbled down his name on one of the invitations.

Harry dropped the chair into it's rightful place. He pocketed his wand and turned to Molly.

"I'm seeing him on Friday. I could give it to him then if you'd like? It would save sending an owl out."

"That would be wonderful," she said. She popped the invite into one of the envelopes. "Here you are." She handed it to him and he stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans.

It had been just over a week since he'd last seen Snape. He was sure the man was cursing him for his absence, but Harry had needed to spend some time on his own, away from all the drama he'd been causing for himself.

It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to see the man. He just didn't know what to say. He'd spent the days since his birthday trying to do as Jeremy had said and figure out what it was, exactly, that he wanted - not only in a companion, but out of life. Where did he see himself in ten years time?

It wasn't easy though. Nothing had become any clearer. He hadn't had an epiphany or any other such nonsense. An answer hadn't jumped out at him and made all his problems go away.

This was serious. He had to take control. Someone was going to get hurt, that much was clear. At this stage it was unavoidable.

Jeremy had said that stringing someone along until he made up his mind was wrong, and Harry wholeheartedly agreed. But he also knew that he couldn't risk making a huge mistake, otherwise _everyone_ would end up hurt. No, he couldn't afford to chose the wrong person. Surely that would be worse, in the long run, than anything he did now?

He loved Ginny, but there was _something_ there with Snape and he needed to know what it was.

It was an absolutely awful thing to do, but it had to be done. He had to jump into the deep end. He had to face this thing head-on. Until he figured out what it was that he wanted, he had to be a lying, cheating, son-of-a-bitch.

Maybe he should just shut up and enjoy the ride?

* * *

As Harry stood waiting on Snape's doorstep, he suddenly decided that he hated the expression 'son-of-a-bitch.' He had only used it in reference to himself because that's what the people on TV seemed to use in situations similar to this, but Harry thought it seemed rather offensive towards his mother and silently vowed never to use it again.

He rapped his knuckles on Snape's door for the fifth (maybe sixth?) time, cursing under his breath. The man was taking his sweet time! And it wasn't as if the street was deserted; it was a lovely summer's evening and children were riding their bikes up and down the gravel road, playing with remote control cars in their gardens, and chasing each other with plastic water-guns. But not all the families on this street were muggle - he'd already spotted a few curtain twitches here and there, witches and wizards staring out at him.

Perhaps it would be better to start using the Floo?

He sighed and looked over at the grimy window. He didn't really want to have to climb through all of the long grass and weeds, but if Snape wasn't answering the door then maybe he'd respond to a rather loud bang on the window.

Just has he turned away from the door, it clicked open. He whirled back round and found Snape staring out at him with a blank expression. Harry noted the rolled up shirt sleeves and realised the man must have been in the middle of brewing a potion.

Harry beamed. "About time," he said, stepping into the cottage and out of the warm sun. "I thought you were going to leave me out there all night."

An eyebrow rose but that was the only response he gave as he let Harry passed. He shut the door behind them both, turning the key in the lock and fastening the bolt.

"I hope I didn't cause you to spoil a potion," he said sincerely. "If you'd just open your floo connection it'd be a lot easier. I know someone who works in the Floo Office, maybe I could -" But before he could finish his sentence, Snape had pushed passed him, sparing him barely a glance.

Harry watched him cross the living room in big strides and come to a stop, back to the room, in front of the fireplace.

Harry fought hard not to sigh. Snape was in a mood. What else was new?

"I'm sorry I didn't stop by or owl you last week," he said. "I thought we could both use some time to think. After what happened."

Still, Snape didn't say anything. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes and sat down on the settee opposite the fire.

"I had a good talk with Jeremy. My assistant," he added, in case Snape thought that remembering Jeremy's name wasn't worth the effort. "And don't worry, he's not going to say anything. And no, I didn't Obliviate him. Some people can actually be trusted on their own merits, as surprising as that may seem to you." He smiled brightly, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Then he remembered that Snape's back couldn't _possibly_ know what expression was on his face, and frowned.

"You look good," he said. "Healthy. Have you been working in the back garden?" He craned his neck and glanced through the back window. "It's coming along nicely. You should make a start on the front. Those weeds have a mind of their own."

He fidgeted nervously and looked about the room. He didn't like being ignored. It reminded him of the Dursley's.

"Fleur's pregnant again," he said. "I can't remember if I told you that or not. It's a girl. Molly and Arthur are still waiting for their first grandson. Not that they're not happy with granddaughters," he added quickly. "I mean, they have Teddy of course, but he's not technically…"

He bit his lip and fidgeted some more. He remembered the invitation in his back pocket and stood up to pull it out.

"I have this for you," he said, looking down at it. "It's an invite. The opening of the café is coming up soon. It'll be good fun. You should come."

_Finally_, Harry seemed to have said the right thing. Snape's head lifted and he turned, his dark eyes fixing upon Harry. His face was void of any expression and Harry felt rather unnerved. He held out the invitation uncertainly, trying his best to keep his hand steady. Snape glanced down at it before returning his gaze to Harry.

Harry gulped. Maybe he'd said the _wrong_ thing?

He waggled the invitation in his fingers. "Are you going to take it or what?" he said.

A glint in Snape's eyes made Harry wish he'd stayed silent. He instinctively threw up his Occlumency shields - not that they would be much use against Snape's power - and braced himself for whatever was to come. He'd seen that look in Snape's eyes back at school and nothing good ever followed.

Harry watched with bated breath as Snape's mouth began to form words.

"I have your permission?" he said, incredulous, mocking, and barely a whisper.

"W-what?"

"Your permission," Snape repeated. "I have it? I'm allowed to attend?"

Harry dropped his hand. "Why are you doing this?"

Snape shrugged his shoulders. "I just wanted to clear a couple of things up so there's no confusion."

Harry shook his head, feeling himself go from unnerved to angry in record time.

"I thought we'd moved on from that," he said, throwing the invitation onto the sofa. "When you turned up at my birthday…I was just surprised. I didn't mean all that stuff I said. I thought you knew that? I mean, we _did_ end up kissing and stuff."

Snape gave a single nod. "You're right, of course. But then, when are you not?"

Harry screwed up his fists. "Would you just stop it!" he snapped. "If you wanna come, then come. If you don't then stay the fuck away!"

He glared at Snape but the man didn't even react to his words. Slowly, almost leisurely, he unfolded him arms and crossed the room. He bent down and picked up the invitation from the sofa.

Harry immediately felt guilty. He hadn't meant to raise his voice but Snape could be so infuriating at times, and he _knew_ the man did it on purpose. But this whole situation…it wasn't easy for either of them.

Snape sat down and Harry found his voice again.

"I didn't mean…I'm sorry I stayed away for so long," he said finally. "I've missed you. Really."

Snape grunted. Harry took that as a sign to continue and he did so, coming over and joining Snape on the settee.

"I've had a lot of time to think. And talking with Jeremy has helped. I didn't make any decisions but…well, all I know is that, right now, I want to spend time with you. I enjoy it. And I don't want there to be any interruptions," he went on. "No reminders of the world waiting for me out there. I just want us to enjoy one another when we're together and to just…see what happens. Can't we just leave it at that? Nothing has to be set in stone."

Snape gave a nasty snort. He scowled at Harry.

"And what of the time you spend with Miss. Weasley? The time leading up to your wedding? Is _that_ not set in stone?"

That dreaded feeling of guilt reared it's head once more. He hesitated before speaking.

"You're right," he said. "I'm supposed to be getting married in December. But I need to know if…if there's something _more_, something different. And what did I just say about ignoring the outside world?"

"So," said Snape, ignoring Harry's last comment, "you wish to experiment with me until you come to a conclusion. I'm honoured, Potter. Touched."

"It's not like that!" he growled. "This is me trying to avoid making the worst mistake of my life. You think I'm being selfish? Fine. OK then. But this is something I _have_ to do. Why can't you let it all go and just _enjoy_ living in the moment? Is it _that_ difficult?"

He stopped, breathing hard and glaring at Snape. Didn't he realise how important this was to Harry? Didn't he realise that the rest of Harry's life depended upon the choices he had to make in the coming months? Didn't he realise how many people Harry was trying to protect from getting hurt? He was trying to minimise the number of casualties this whole thing was inevitably going to cause, but he couldn't do that without help and support. He _needed_ Snape. He needed to _know_…

Harry was expecting Snape to argue back, to say that yes, Harry was being very selfish; to say that there were more important things than Harry Potter's problems to worry about; to start throwing insults at him and yelling at him to get out and never bother him again.

But to Harry's great surprise, Snape frowned. He reached out a hand and, gently, brushed a stray hair from out of Harry's eyes.

"Do you have any idea of how desperate you look right now?" he said softly.

Harry's cheeks warmed. "I have an inkling," he murmured. He lowered his eyes to the hands fidgeting again in his lap. He forced them to stay still, and looked up when he heard Snape heaving a heavy sigh.

"This is against my better judgement…" he said.

Harry's face broke into a huge smile and he launched himself at the other man, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you so much. This really does mean a lot to me."

Snape didn't reply, but Harry felt a hand brush through his hair.

"I have next Saturday free," he said, grinning up at Snape. "Could I maybe stay over on Friday?"

Snape didn't smile. He simply looked at Harry and said; "That would be acceptable."

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for all the kind reviews. I'm really happy that you're all still reading and enjoying! xx


	18. Dates and Dumbledores

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry! I can't believe I haven't updated since April. I really do apologise, I know how annoying it is. I blame it on work - I'm only supposed to be doing part-time hours but because things are so busy there I've been made to do like 5 or 6 days a week. I don't even have time for a social life anymore. Anyways, since it's been so long (again), he's another recap, posted from the last one I used and added to:

**Recap:** Harry and Snape started being friends and meeting every Friday, when Ginny found out she was angry but has finally forgiven Snape for the things he's done, Harry and Snape have been sleeping together and it's been going on for a couple of months now, then Harry's assistant caught them making out in an alley on Harry's birthday. Harry talked to his assistant, Jeremy, about it all and Snape talked to Dumbledore's portrait. Harry and Snape made up (again) and they made plans for Harry to stay the night.

Hope that helps.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Dates and Dumbledores **

For reasons Harry couldn't quite explain, he was looking forward to the coming weekend with a mixture of nervous excitement and dread. The days dragged by in one big haze of noise and colour, and even mad old Mr. Winterbottom trying - and spectacularly failing - to hold a few goblins hostage in his never-ending attempt to become a Dark Lord only managed to distract him from his upcoming date with Snape for a quarter of an hour, at most.

He could barely focus on the work set out in front of him - he'd read the same paragraph a total of nine times before he'd given up, grinning, and allowed himself to become lost in daydreams of what Friday night might hold in store. He'd even had to send Ron out on a mission in his stead, so low was his concentration that he was having trouble with the simplest of spells.

Sat in his office, staring out of the magical window, he felt like a teenager again - a young adolescent discovering the world of romance, the world of love and sex and powerful, powerful feeling. Did he look alright? Were his palms too sweaty? Did his breath smell? He was experiencing these things all over again and it felt fantastic.

His head felt much clearer than it had in months. It was amazing what _not thinking_ about his problems could do. He knew that one day (and in the not-too-distant future) he would have to face up to what he'd done, but he hoped that, by then, he would have a better idea of want he wanted.

There were times - moments really - when the seriousness of what he was doing made him shudder with shame. He was usually with Ginny when this happened; she'd be cooking his favourite meal when he got home from work, or they'd be cuddled up on the sofa together, Harry doing some last-minute paperwork, Ginny watching her favourite soaps on the TV, when he'd be struck dumb by the realisation of what he was doing to her. But he was getting better and better at shaking himself out of these moments, casting his mind back to how he felt around Snape, how much he needed to be close to him.

Perhaps he _was_ gay. Perhaps it was just Snape.

* * *

The first thing Harry did when he got home on Friday evening after work was jump straight into the shower. He'd spent the past couple of hours chasing some witches and wizards all over Birmingham, setting up traps and dodging spells, making quick, mental notes of all the muggles that would be needing visits from Obliviators. Dangerous as it was, he normally enjoyed this sort of thing. Today, however - what with the scorching summer sun glaring down on him, and his nerves on edge about his upcoming date with Snape - he'd hated every moment. He'd had to leave the arresting to Sam and Ron because by the time they had caught up with the criminals, Harry had felt like punching someone.

Standing under the powerful jet of water, feeling all sticky and sweaty, he took a few steady breaths. He quickly washed his underarms before reaching for the bottle of shampoo and starting on his hair, thinking all the while of how this evening with Snape could go. Would they simply enjoy a meal and a bottle of wine together? Would they sit and talk for hours? Or would they just skip all that and fall into bed? Either way, Harry was looking forward to it; he would be spending the night with Snape, no matter what.

Ginny had left that morning and wouldn't be back until Sunday. The final match of the European Championships was being played tomorrow - the Gothenburg Gargoyles from Sweden verses the team that had knocked out the Harpies, the Milan Magicians from Italy - and the manager of Ginny's team, who was dating the sister of one of the Chasers from Milan (which was all very confusing and scandalous and could be read about on pages 4 and 5 of the latest issue of _Quidditch Weekly_) had gotten them all tickets to the Cup Match. Then it was off to Holyhead in Wales for a spot of training before returning home on Sunday night.

Harry pushed away his growing guilt and shut off the shower. As he stepped out onto the tiled floor he caught sight of himself in the large mirror above the sink. His eyes travelled over his reflection and he flushed.

Snape had seen him without clothes on a few times now, but Harry had never really given any serious thought as to what _exactly_ Snape was seeing beyond that of a naked body. He wasn't the best looking person in the world, but he was fairly comfortable with his appearance. He was never going to be tall and muscular like some of the Aurors he worked with, but his chest and stomach were adequately toned and he wasn't too hairy or too pale. His thighs were quite strong from all the exercise he did, and his cock was a good, average length. He'd never had any complaints from Ginny anyway, and he definitely looked better than Snape.

He cringed. Why did he suddenly feel so bad about thinking horrible things about Snape?

In all honesty, he didn't care what the man looked like. He was pale and had more hair than Harry, and he was skinny and his stomach was slightly rounded and he had quite a number of scars…but Harry didn't see all that when he looked at him. All he saw was Severus.

Not even bothering to try and figure out what that meant, he sighed and reached for a towel.

* * *

This time, Harry only had a few seconds to wait at the door when he knocked on. It opened to reveal Snape, dressed smartly in black trousers and a shirt. His long, black hair fell to his shoulders, as always, but there was something different about it and when Harry realised that Snape has _washed it_ he had to fight back a grin - Snape had made an effort!

"Hi," he smiled, stepping into the cottage. He wasn't sure whether or not he should comment on Snape's appearance; on one hand, it felt nice to receive compliments and have your efforts acknowledged, but on the other…well, he wasn't so sure Snape would appreciate the attention, especially regarding something he had been teased about for so long.

Thinking it best to just silently admire the soft, clean hair, he moved forward and gave Snape a kiss on the lips.

"So," he said, pulling away, "what do you have planned for us tonight?"

Snape stepped past Harry into the living room. "I thought perhaps something to eat first, and then a bottle of wine and a film."

"Sounds good," said Harry. "Do you need a hand in the kitchen?"

"I think I can manage," he said, with a roll of his eyes. "Really, how hard can pasta be?"

So Snape swept into the kitchen and Harry made himself comfortable on the sofa. As usual, the room was very clean and tidy. He amazed at how the hundreds of books on the shelves were lined in alphabetical order and then further divided into sections regarding topic. The pictures on the walls were all perfectly straight and there wasn't a speck of dust to be seen. He craned his neck and looked out of the back window; sure enough, the garden was still immaculate.

Snape re-entered the room carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. He set them down on the coffee table and uncorked the bottle.

"Why do you never do anything with the front garden?" Harry asked, watching him. "That fence seriously needs some paintwork."

"It keeps people away," Snape said simply. He poured red wine into the glasses and held one out to Harry, who took it, frowning. "If the front of the house looked welcoming, people would think I'm nice. The neighbours would be knocking on at all hours, being nosy and trying exchange recipes with me."

Harry laughed. "Do people actually do that? I just thought it was on TV."

Snape took a gulp of his own drink, then placed it aside. "I do not care to test it," he said, and disappeared into the kitchen again.

Harry sipped the wine thoughtfully. He wondered if his parents had been the sort of people to do such things when they'd lived here. Had the muggles, witches, and wizards on this street exchanged recipes with _them?_ Had they babysat one another's children?

He let his eyes scan the room again. Above the fire, the Dumbledore family slept. Albus seemed to spend a lot of time sleeping, Harry thought, and he was always here with Snape. Was he ever in his portrait at the Ministry or Hogwarts?

After a few more moments of silent contemplation, he heard Snape enter the room again. This time he was carrying two plates of food. He set it all down on the small table and seated himself next to Harry.

"I hope you like the sauce," he said, reaching for his plate. "It's tomato but it's a little spicy."

"My favourite," smiled Harry.

The food was delicious and the wine Snape had chosen to go with the meal complimented it perfectly. They sat and ate and talked for half an hour, discussing their week and all that had happened. Harry tried to persuade Snape to do at least a little gardening at the front of the house, saying how lovely it would look - he even went as far as to say that Dumbledore wouldn't have wanted his old home to fall into disrepair - but Snape wasn't having any of it, determined as he was to keep the neighbours away. Harry pointed out that he could use muggle-repelling charms, but Snape pointed out that they wouldn't work on the magical half of the community, and so the subject was dropped and replaced with idle gossip.

Once the meal had been cleared away, Snape went over to the television set and picked up a transparent case with a disc inside.

Harry, settled comfortably on the sofa and stretched out after the meal, looked up.

"What's that?" he asked.

He saw Snape do his eye-rolling thing again.

"This, Mr. Potter, is what the muggles like to call a DVD."

"I know that," said Harry. "But what are we watching?"

"Just a little something," he said. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Are you coming?"

Harry sat up. He looked at Snape, who was moving towards the stairs, then at the large TV that sat in the corner, complete with video and DVD player.

Snape sighed. He looked pointedly over at Dumbledore's portrait, then back again at Harry.

"Oh…" Harry smiled and got up. "Lead the way."

He followed Snape up the stairs and across the landing into the familiar bedroom. As Snape busied himself with setting up the film, Harry kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed, shuffling up until he was leaning against the headboard. A few seconds later he was joined by a smirking Snape.

"Sitting comfortably?" he asked Harry.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You're up to something."

Snape didn't answer. He reached for the remote and hit 'play'.

Harry had been expecting music, titles, the standard opening sequences to a film. Instead he was treated to the sound of heavy moaning and a screen full of cock. He was so startled by the sudden image that his whole body jolted and he blushed furiously.

"Snape!" he said indignantly, turning to glare at the man sat next to him. "This is porn!"

"Indeed it is," Snape smirked. "Have you never watched it before?"

"Of course not!" he said loudly. "I don't…well, I don't…"

"…do that sort of thing?" Snape finished for him. "I'm sure."

"Snape!" he said again, but that was as far as it went. The moans issuing from the television set were growing louder, breathier, and he chanced a quick glance back at the screen. A large hand had now joined in; it reached out and started gently teasing one of the hard shafts.

Harry turned away, feeling a shift in his nether regions.

He _had_ watched porn before, of course, but he wasn't going to admit that to Snape. He wasn't going to admit that to _anyone._ Pornography, masturbation…well, it was a private matter, wasn't it? So what if everyone did it? It wasn't something to be discussed casually amongst friends, and it certainly wasn't something you did with other people. Obviously, Snape thought differently.

"_Fuck…that's so good. Rub my hard cock, yeah, just like that…"_

If possible, Harry felt himself burn even redder at those words. He looked back up at the screen. The hand had now joined the two cocks together, rubbing them both in tandem.

Harry gulped. He remembered when he and Snape had done that a few months ago, downstairs, on the very sofa they had been sitting on only moments ago. It had felt incredible, so unlike anything he'd ever felt, having his cock rubbed against someone else's, feeling how turned on Snape had been…

The camera zoomed out slowly; the two were quite attractive, but nothing special. One of them, the younger of the two, was pale and skinny. The other was quite handsome, tan, but a little overweight.

"I much prefer amateur pornography to the professional stuff," Snape drawled. "It's so much more real. They're doing it because they enjoy it, not because they're getting paid. They want to touch each other, rub against each other, make each other come. Look how hard they are."

Harry gulped.

The skinny man on the screen had let his hand drop as he took a step back and sprawled himself out luxuriously on the settee. He lay back, one arm resting behind his head, the other continuing the slow, hard pulls on his prick. The other man watched him greedily and licked his lips. So did Harry, his own cock throbbing painfully in his jeans.

He watched in horrified fascination as the other, older man knelt before the sofa at the sprawled man's legs. He knew what was coming, could remember how it had felt the first time Snape had done that to him, could remember every sensation, the hot mouth, the rough stubble…

The sound of a zip being undone made him jump and his head snapped round. His eyes locked on to the source without effort and he watched hungrily as Snape slowly undid his trousers. He couldn't have looked away even if he'd wanted to - Snape made such a simple thing unbelievably hypnotic. His trousers parted, he lifted his hips and pushed them down.

"Fancy a game?" Snape's voiced purred. Harry nodded, eyes still fixed on tented briefs; he could clearly see the outline of Snape's cock curling upwards and he wanted more than anything to suck at the damp spot appearing through the material.

He heard a deep chuckle and the briefs, too, were pushed away. Harry reached out an unsteady hand but Snape caught it.

"You're not playing by the rules, Mr. Potter," he said in a voice that sent shivers through Harry's body. "Your jeans, if you will?"

It took Harry a moment to register what Snape meant, but it didn't matter; his hands acted of their own volition, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them and his boxers down to his ankles.

"Let's see who can last the longest," said Snape, and he wrapped a hand around Harry's cock and stroked.

* * *

The house around him was heavy with silence, the darkness of the room pressing in. The sound of Snape's gentle snoring had ceased only minutes ago but Harry felt their absence completely. Every movement he made seemed to cause an avalanche of noise. He lay still, staring up at the black ceiling.

It must be at least two in the morning, he thought, judging by the silence and the thickness of the night. Which meant it was roughly 4am where Ginny was. She'd be asleep in her hotel room.

He sighed and rolled over, the soft ruffle of the duvet the loudest noise in the world.

He hated that he was thinking of Ginny whilst lying in bed with Snape. It was an insult to both of them, and that was the main thing, wasn't it? _Both of them_. Ginny wasn't the only one that was going to get hurt, because the longer this went on, the more Snape would rely on Harry's affections. He was naïve to think that this would all go away on it's own in time; it helped with the here and now but the lying and cheating couldn't go on forever. He knew all this already, of course - he'd thought about it and analysed it and ignored it; he'd already acknowledged that it was inevitable that someone was going to get hurt, he'd already realised that it wasn't about prevention anymore, but damage control. But some stupid part of him still thought there was a way to make everything better and it was that part of him that was stopping him from taking action. Why did 'just ignore it' still seem like such a brilliant idea?

He rubbed his eyes wearily and winced slightly at the noise as he pushed back the bed covers. He got to his feet and wrapped himself in Snape's dressing gown and headed for the stairs.

After filling a glass of water from the tap, he sank onto the sofa in the living room. It was a little lighter down here, the curtains not being as thick as the ones in the bedroom. He could make out the outlines of the armchairs and bookshelves without much effort and it made him feel easier, being able to see things when the night was so quiet, though he felt no desire to turn on the lights.

He sipped his drink and pulled his legs up underneath him. The thing he didn't want to think about was creeping up on him again and he glanced slowly around the dark room, distracting himself by trying to remember exactly where everything was and what it looked like in the daytime.

A candle sputtered into life and he inhaled a sharp breath. Another one, and then another one, and Harry gasped and jumped to his feet, spinning around.

"Hello, my boy," said a very familiar voice and he turned in the direction of the fireplace.

Albus Dumbledore blinked down at him from his portrait above the mantel. Harry stared. He'd never seen him awake before.

"Professor!" he smiled, relaxing and stepping forwards. "It's nice to see you again."

Dumbledore gave a sad little smile. "You too, Harry. I just wish it could be under better circumstances."

"What do you mean?" he asked. It was then that he noticed the other occupants of the portrait.

All of them were awake and, if their expressions were anything to go by, none of them were happy. Percival Dumbledore, looking bizarrely like a younger version of his son, Albus, was glaring down at Harry with a very disapproving look on his face. Kendra, his wife, was holding her daughter close to her, as if to protect her from Harry's evil ways, and she was looking at Harry in slight disgust, shaking her head. Ariana herself had a frown on her face, but didn't seem too concerned with what was going on in the room, twirling her long blonde hair around her fingers.

Harry's smile faltered. "This is about Snape, isn't it?"

"He doesn't deserve this kind of treatment, Harry," Dumbledore said sadly. "I know he acts tough but there's a very vulnerable man underneath that exterior."

Harry's jaw tightened. "I'm not trying to hurt him," he said roughly. "I didn't wake up one day and decide I wanted all this. It just happened. He started it," he added churlishly.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, leading the poor lad on like this," snapped Kendra. "He's ten times the man you'll ever be."

"Mother…" Dumbledore put in.

"Don't you go defendin' him, Albus!" Percival said forcefully. "I've seen his type before and they don't care one iota 'bout the people they hurt, 's long as they get what they want."

"It's not like that!" Harry said. "I really care about Severus."

Percival snorted.

"I do!" he affirmed. "Do you think I like being in this situation?"

"Oh," said Kendra, eyes wide, "so we're supposed to feel sorry for _you_, are we? My mistake. I thought it was _wrong_ to lead people on. How silly of me."

"I'm not leading him on. Well, not on purpose. I really don't want him to get hurt, I didn't -"

"That boy loves you, he does," she cut across. "He thinks the bloody world of you. And every time you're finished with him you just go running home back to that poor fiancée of yours. Well, my heart bleeds for you."

"Mother, please," said Dumbledore. "Harry is very confused right now."

"Confused?" laughed Kendra.

"He knows exactly what he's doing," said Percival.

Harry's stomach clenched and he dropped back down onto the sofa behind him, head in hands. They were right of course - not about everything because he _wasn't_ doing this on purpose - but Snape was in a very vulnerable position and after everything he'd been through in his life, he didn't deserve to have Harry mess with his emotions.

And love? Did Snape love him? Surely not. But what if…

"Harry," Dumbledore said gently, "I've know Severus for a very long time. He hasn't had many relationships and he's never handled affection particularly well. But he's let you in, and if you knew him as well as I do, you'd realise how very rare that is. Please. I'm not saying you have stay with him, but please make up your mind, and soon. This isn't just a bit of fun anymore."

"It never - " he started to say, but stopped, the lie stuck in his throat. It had started out as curiosity, and then it had been something fun, new, and exciting. What was it now? Why was it so hard for Harry to let go? Had Snape really fallen in love with him?

"Fuck my life," he muttered.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for being so patient and I hope you can forgive the lateness and review. I've had a bit of a writing-spree lately so the next one shouldn't be too long a wait. There's still lots more drama to come!

Thank you. xx


	19. Home Made

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**A/N:** I'm truly am sorry it's taken so long to update. It's taking me quite some time to finish chapters now since I work silly hours, but on the plus side I've been working on this story whenever I've had the chance and I have almost 3 chapters done (they just need a bit of adding to) so there really shouldn't be a long wait in future.

**Here's yet another recap since it's been a while:**

Harry and Snape started being friends and meeting every Friday, when Ginny found out she was angry but has finally forgiven Snape for the things he's done, Harry and Snape have been sleeping together and it's been going on for a couple of months now, then Harry's assistant caught them making out in an alley on Harry's birthday. Harry talked to his assistant, Jeremy, about it all and Snape talked to Dumbledore's portrait. Harry and Snape made up. The opening of the café is coming up and Molly has invited Snape. Harry, despite Jeremy's warnings, has decided to enjoy being with Snape and see what happens. He went over for dinner, they watched porn (lol), and then the Dumbledore portrait had a few things to say.

Sorry once again! Like I said, I have quite a bit more done so it shouldn't be a stupidly long wait again. Thanks to everyone for being so patient.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Home Made**

There was just under a week left until September 2nd was upon them once more and Diagon Alley was full to bursting with children, teenagers, and parents, all rushing about buying school supplies for the new academic year. The late August sun was beaming down brightly and many people had shrugged off their robes and slung them over their arms. The air was full of excited chatter as students stopped to greet their peers, talk about their holidays, and gossip about the latest celebrity news as their parents tried desperately to steer them towards the many different shops. Queues of people had already started to form outside the smaller ones and a crowd had gathered around the large bay window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, which had put on a rather bright display of the blue and gold team kit of the Gothenburg Gargoyles, the Swedish team that had won the European Championships.

Having managed to get the day off work, Harry dodged past the many shoppers and weaved his way down the cobbled lane in just his jeans and t-shirt, feeling a tad wistful as he eyed the Hogwarts uniforms in Madam Malkin's shop. He loved being at the Ministry but the end of the summer holidays always made him think of school, the place that had changed his life and had given him friends. He felt a special connection to Hogwarts and he envied the teachers for getting to return there every year.

Maybe he could pay Hagrid and Minerva a visit?

Smiling as a few girls dropped their shopping bags and gawped at him, he rounded the bend in the narrow lane and headed for the building with the biggest crowd outside.

The end of the summer holidays also brought the opening of Molly and Andromeda's café, Home Made. A big, bright banner above the door announced the event in flashing letters and a large menu had finally been put on display in the window, which the people at the front of the queue were milling around. Inside, Harry could see that trays of free samples had been lined up - miniature fairy cakes and biscuits, pasties and sandwiches, jellies and trifles. Tiny glasses of champagne and apple juice were also waiting on a table by the door, for the guests and customers to toast the grand opening.

It was a risk, Harry thought, opening at the end of summer instead of the beginning, but as the business already relied heavily on catering events he was fairly confident that the café would be a success. The fact that it offered a delivery service greatly improved its chances and Harry knew that once people had tasted the food there would be orders flying in from all over.

Ignoring all the heads that turned in his direction, Harry walked to the front of the queue and knocked on the door. George grinned through the glass and opened it for him.

"Mum, your celebrity guest is here!" he called over his shoulder. Ginny, who had followed her brother to the door, hit him on the arm. "Oh, I'm sorry," corrected George. "Your _second_ celebrity guest is here! Can't go upsetting the little Quidditch star now, can we?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and handed Harry a cream-coloured apron that had the words 'Home Made' stamped across the chest in colourful letters.

"It's one glass of champagne per person," she explained at once, "and one free sample per tray per person. Anyone with an invitation is to come straight in, no queuing, and any orders are to be made at the counter." She took a breath and straightened up. "Thanks for doing this, Harry. It really means a lot."

"No problem," he smiled. "Happy to help."

She gave him a bright smile and kissed him on the cheek before turning and heading for the kitchen, her ponytail swinging back and forth energetically. He watched her disappear through the door then turned to look at the trays.

He, Ron, George, and Ginny had all been made to "volunteer" their waiting services for the day, going about the room with trays of food and offering the customers free samples, hopefully persuading them to purchase more. Ron had scoffed at the idea and Harry, too, had to admit he was a little apprehensive himself, what with his "Boy Who Lived" status and all. But the Weasleys had been so kind to him over the years and he was determined to help them out in any way he could.

So, with that in mind, he threw the apron on and tied it at his waist, doing his best to ignore the crowd of people gawping at him through the windows. It wouldn't be so bad, he told himself, picking up his tray. He was, after all, in charge of champagne.

* * *

"Glass of champagne, Madam? Apple juice for your daughter?"

"Fairy cakes! Get your fairy cakes, on the house!"

"Oi! If you want another one of those it's 5 sickles."

"It's going rather well, isn't it?" said Ginny, coming to stand next to Harry. "Mum and Andromeda have already made loads. Look!"

Harry turned to see where she was pointing. Teddy was sitting on the edge of a counter, eating a chocolate éclair, swinging his feet, and looking completely at ease as Molly and Andromeda tried to deal with the queue that was forming at the till point. All the tables were full up, even the ones outside, and a number of people were having to stand to eat their purchases, yet more and more customers were entering the café. Harry saw Arthur pop his head out from the kitchen, catch sight of the queue, and duck back in again.

"I knew it would be a success," he smiled, turning back to Ginny. "Champagne?"

Ginny giggled. "No thanks. I've already had quite a few. And don't think I didn't see you sneaking those drinks before!"

"I've only had three!" he said indignantly. "And they're such small glasses."

Ginny giggled again before giving him a kiss and wandering off through the crowd. She hadn't been gone ten seconds when Ron came over to join him. He nodded at Harry's tray. "I couldn't have one of those, could I? Cheers." He took the drink Harry offered him, downed it in one, and handed the empty glass back.

"Having fun?" Harry asked, smirking.

Ron scowled. "Are you kidding me? We're supposed to be Aurors, for Merlin's sake! I can't believe Hermione has to work. I bet she didn't even try to get the day off!"

"I'm sure she did her best," he said, trying not to laugh; he'd seen Hermione that very morning and, indeed, she hadn't even tried. _'There's just so much to do, Harry,'_ she'd said, several files floating along behind her. _'And is my presence at the café _really_ going to make a difference?'_

"Hey, you two!"

Harry and Ron both looked up at the sound of George's voice. He was making his way through the crowd of customers, his tray of pasties held high. Harry watched as he completely ignored the three people trying to reach for a free sample.

"Have you seen who's over there?" he said as he reached them. He nodded towards one of the far tables and Harry and Ron turned for a look.

Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco, were sat at a small table in the corner. They each had a plate of food in front of them - paid for, Harry noted, as lasagne definitely wasn't one of the free samples on offer. Narcissa looked as rigid as ever, sat straight-backed in the chair, her blonde hair held back in a tight bun. She had on robes of deepest blue and looked slightly uncomfortably at the amount of people in her vicinity. Draco, whom Ron and Harry had seen at work from time to time, was just as pale and pointy as ever. His hair had grown enough so that he could tie it back in a short ponytail.

"What are they doing here?" Ron asked angrily, his ears going bright red. "Probably trying to cause trouble, no doubt."

"Actually," said George, quietly, "they were invited."

Harry frowned as George confirmed what he had been thinking. They were here as Andromeda's guests.

He hadn't brought up the Malfoys with Andromeda since their argument about them a couple of months ago; he hadn't asked how things had gone with her visit or whether she would be seeing them again. It was childish of him, yes, he knew that, but after everything the Malfoys had done, after everything they had put him and his friends through, he really didn't have the energy it would undoubtedly take to support such a friendship with them. He'd already done his part - he'd helped keep Narcissa and Draco out of prison and had lowered Lucius's sentence. He wouldn't do anymore.

"Gits," Ron grumbled. "Look at them, sitting there, eating our food…"

As if they'd heard, or as if they'd sensed the stares of Harry, Ron, and George, the two Malfoys looked up. Narcissa's cheeks were rosy with pink blusher which made the rest of her skin look even more pale by contrast; her expression was blank as her eyes met Harry's but Draco, however, got to his feet and smirked.

Ron's hand automatically went for his wand and Harry had to grab his wrist.

"What's going on?" came Ginny's voice from behind them. She didn't need an answer, though, as she followed their gazes.

"Weasleys," Draco said, in way of greeting, his eyes alight, "Potter." He looked at each of them in turn, that familiar nasty smile playing about his thin lips. "It was so kind of dear Aunt Andromeda to invite us today," he drawled. "She's so thoughtful, isn't she? And that Teddy Lupin - "

"You stay away from him!" Harry warned, his own hand now twitching for his wand.

Draco grinned at him in that superior way that only a Malfoy could manage.

"I'm a _blood_ relative, Potter. Who are you?"

"I'm his godfather," he growled. "And if you so much as _look_ at him the wrong way, I swear there won't be any blood left in your body!"

Draco said nothing, just continued to smile. Harry longed to curse the lips from his face and it was a struggle for him to remember where he was and what he was meant to be doing. Eventually, after a moment or two, Draco sauntered back over to his mother.

"He's just winding you up, Harry," said Ginny. "He's doing it because he knows he can get a rise out of you. Just ignore him."

"Yeah," said George. "He wouldn't dare do anything to Teddy. He's just messing you around." He patted Harry on the back and, with a last look of loathing at the Malfoys, made his way back through the crowd. Ginny followed him.

"Well," said Ron in disgust, "at least if Snape shows up he'll have someone to talk to. Jolly little Death Eater reunion." And he, too, headed back across the shop.

Harry, who would normally have taken offence at the Death Eater jibe directed at Severus, suddenly had a whole other problem to deal with. He'd completely forgotten that Snape was supposed to be coming.

Malfoys quite forgotten, Harry placed his almost-empty tray down on the serving counter and made his way through to the back of the café on the pretence of getting more champagne. Once in the stock room, he sighed and stood with his back against the wall, peace and quiet at last and alone with his thoughts.

He and Severus hadn't seen each other since last week when Harry had stayed over and the Dumbledores had had their say. He'd kept that little conversation to himself, of course, but their words had haunted him for days. They were right, Harry knew, to be concerned about his relationship with Severus, but he'd been hurt by their accusations that he was doing this on purpose. Hurting Severus was the last thing he wanted and he knew he should end whatever this was between them before things started to turn serious, but…

…but what _was_ serious? He cared deeply for Snape. He wanted him to be happy, to enjoy life as he'd never been able to before - he deserved that more than anyone. And, well, wasn't it clear that being with _Harry_ was what made him happy?

Any anyway, what if things were _already_ serious? After all, Kendra Dumbledore had said that Severus loved him. Harry wasn't so sure, though - he highly doubted that Snape would let himself fall in love with someone so inappropriate. But still…

Harry wasn't sure of his own feelings. He knew he'd discovered something new and exciting with Severus, this whole other side he hadn't even been aware of until their lips had touched. He was happy, and happiness wasn't the sort of thing people tended to put a stop to.

One thing he wasn't in any doubt about, however, was that they both greatly enjoyed the physical aspects of their relationship.

Take last week, for instance. Severus had taken _such_ pleasure in teasing Harry with the pornographic film and Harry had very quickly overcome his embarrassment of sharing such a thing with another person. There was something hugely erotic about watching another man becoming hard, knowing that they were just as turned on as you were, knowing you were being turned on by the same thing. And then when Snape had wrapped his hand around Harry's cock, and Harry had wrapped his own around Snape's…

Harry blushed at the memory and adjusted his apron.

He remembered the first time he'd ever seen pornography. It had been after the war, so probably a little later than everyone else, not that he cared much - the idea of it had never seriously entered his mind other than a passing wonder. By the time he'd finished school the most he'd done with Ginny was heavy kissing and a bit of groping over the clothes. He'd had orgasms, of course, but only by his own hand. He and Ginny had never gone that far whilst at Hogwarts.

So after things had settled down, Ginny had gone back to school with Hermione, and Ron had started work at the joke shop with George, leaving Harry, when he wasn't at the Ministry, alone at Grimmauld Place. Still trying to avoid his "adoring fans" and, with nothing but work to occupy his time, he'd made the difficult decision of sorting through Sirius's things.

It had been extremely painful at first, everything reminding him of the time his godfather had been locked in the house with nothing and no one. Then, gradually, it had become interesting, going through old school books and notes, finding pranks and photographs, all the things that reminded him of the fun Sirius had had in his youth.

Then he'd found a box. It had been stashed under the bed, right up against the wall, covered in dust. He'd easily managed to break through the old locking charm and had been slightly confused when he'd found stacks and stacks of magazines. His confusion had disappeared once he'd turned them over. Porn magazines. Girls, girls, girls, all naked, and, flicking through the pages, all in revealing (_and slightly degrading,_ he thought) positions.

He'd been mesmerized. He'd seen the odd picture or two back in the dormitory at Hogwarts but he'd never stopped and stared, had never really been that overly curious.

He'd grown hard, of course, looking through all the moving pictures, but he'd managed to ignore the desire they'd stirred in him and a cold shower had been a blessing. The thought of masturbating to the same things that Sirius had once enjoyed had seemed…_wrong_.

But the images had refused to leave his mind. Day after day he'd thought of them, day after day he'd wanted to look and enjoy. He was young and horny and the pictures had completely fascinated him, so eventually he'd come up with the idea of buying his own.

It had been a simple enough task, just a few spells here and there to change his appearance. He'd ventured out into the muggle world, had found an adult shop in one of the back streets of London, and had brought home a bag full of magazines and DVD's.

After he'd finished enjoying each of them he'd felt silly, really dirty and perverted, but that feeling had always vanished the moment he'd started on the next one. It was only natural, he'd reasoned with himself, to be interested in naked women and sex, especially at his age, and he was pretty sure that everyone did it, though he knew he'd never tell a soul about it, not even Ginny. Ginny would tell him it was disgusting to watch other people.

But Severus had _watched it with him_. Severus had known Harry had watched porn because he, too, enjoyed it. He had even turned it into a game, to see which of them could hold off from coming the longest (which, of course, Harry had lost.)

Harry smiled and brought himself back to the present. Now wasn't the time to be thinking about Snape, not in that context. He stood on tiptoe and reached up on the shelf for a fresh bottle of champagne, but as he did his groin brushed against the top of the table leg. Shivers went through his body and he froze. He was hard.

He let go of the champagne. He glanced at the door and then looked at the wooden table. It would be humiliating and stupid, and it was probably the alcohol in his system that was egging him on, yet the temptation to just rub against the table was so strong right now that it was difficult to ignore. It would be so easy. No one would know, and it would feel so good. He glanced again at the door.

Slowly, gently, he bent his knees slightly and pressed his hips to the table leg. He felt himself blush with embarrassment at what he was doing, but he let out a groan all the same. Adjusting his position slightly, he snaked a hand between himself and the table and cupped his balls. He squeezed and pushed forwards against the hard surface.

The door opened and Harry jumped up, knocking his knee sharply against the table, stumbling round and blushing furiously. His heart felt like it was about to punch a hole though his chest and he steadied himself, staring at the figure in the door.

"Snape?" He felt relief course through him, extremely thankful that it hadn't been anyone else.

But then he noticed that Snape was smirking.

"Were you just - ?" he started to say in _that_ voice.

"No!" Harry said quickly.

Severus's eyes lit up.

"You _were_," he purred, and before Harry could think of a reason to excuse his behaviour, before he could even draw breath, Severus was on him. He pushed Harry hard into the table and Harry gasped as the harsh wooden edge dug painfully into the small of his back, but moments later he didn't care; any pain he felt was forgotten as Severus's hands disappeared underneath Harry's apron. His long fingers flicked open the buttons of his jeans, his fly was unzipped - he had only a few seconds to grasp the table behind him and steady himself before Severus had hold of his cock.

Harry moaned loudly as the hand began to pump up and down urgently. His face fell onto Severus's shoulder, his breath coming in heavy pants. Heat pooled in his belly, lighting a fire, and he bit the collar of Severus's robes to stop from shouting out.

"On the table," Snape said in that deep voice of his that sent pleasure through Harry's body. That voice didn't need to tell him twice - he rather suspected he'd do anything that voice ordered; he fumbled behind him, got a good grip on the table, and heaved himself up to sit on the edge, his cock bouncing. He reached a hand up and pulled Severus's mouth to his own and Severus kissed him back just as hungrily, just as frantically, as ever.

Snape's rough hand continued to stroke him and Harry felt like he was on fire, his whole world suddenly condensed and focused entirely on his cock. He leaned back on his hand, the other still lost in Snape's hair, and he thrust his hip upwards, once, twice, crying out in frustration, needing more. His lips left Snape's and he pulled himself up, sinking his teeth into Snape's clothed shoulder.

"Please," he gasped through heavy pants, "Please…I'm nearly…I'm going to…not on the apron."

He thought he heard Snape laugh but then Snape lowered his head to Harry's lap so quickly that any thoughts of laughter vanished instantly from his mind. He cried out, then shoved his fist in his mouth, stifling any sound Severus was forcing him to make. His hips pumped wildly into the engulfing heat and with a muffled shout he came, little lights flashing behind his eyes as he screwed them tight shut, thrusting all the way through his orgasm until he was completely spent.

His hand dropped away from his mouth and he fell forwards, feeling boneless. He wrapped himself around Snape as he tried to catch his breath. He was vaguely aware of the man jerking himself off and he managed to turn his head just in time to see Snape's face contort with pleasure. He smiled tiredly and kissed any part of Snape he could reach, his shoulder, the side of his neck, his flushed cheek. After a few silent moments, Snape turned his head and captured Harry's lips in his own, kissing him softly.

And Harry never wanted to move.

* * *

**A/N:** The scene at the end has been edited (_very slightly_...words and descriptions here and there) so, as usual, the **unedited can be found at the link in my profile.** I know I don't have to edit but I'd rather be on the safe side since, as I've said before, I know people who have been deleted for it.

Thanks again for waiting! I hope you're still enjoying it. More will come soon, I promise.


	20. Addiction

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC

**Pairings:** SS/HP and HP/GW

**Genres:** Romance, Drama, Angst

**Summary:** Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Addiction**

"It's that time of the year again," Ron muttered quietly, scratching the sharp end of his favourite quill into his desk, a frown fixed to his face.

"Another year, another batch," nodded Samuel.

"I heard they were only taking on three this year," Karen whispered with wide eyes. "Cut-backs."

"I heard that one of them has only just been released from Azkaban after serving fifty years for murder!" a shocked Jeremy told the group of Aurors.

"Well _I_ heard that one of the new kids is a _werewolf_," Lydia supplied. "Imagine that!"

"There's nothing wrong with werewolves," Ron said, firing up at once.

"You read up on Fenrir Greyback and say that," she answered wisely.

"Yeah? Well, you read up on Remus Lupin and say that!" he retorted.

"Ssh," said Karen, waving her hands at both of them. "Here they come, look!"

As one, the group looked up, Ron swivelling round in his chair. A line of people were filing through the open door - five of them, three male and two female, all wearing black robes with the words "Trainee" stamped on the breast pocket in red. Head Auror Harry Potter led them to the front of the room, Head of Department Gawain Robards bringing up the rear.

By now the rest of the Aurors in the room had noticed the arrival of the new people and had stopped what they were doing to look over. Some of them were whispering to one another, others were waiting patiently in be introduced. Harry smiled at the room and cleared his throat.

"Could I just have everyone's attention?" he asked unnecessarily. "Thank you. First of all, I would like you all to welcome the new recruits joining our brilliant team this year." There was scattered applause. "I can assure you that any rumours you may have heard -" he looked pointedly over at Lydia and Karen "- are completely false. We're very lucky to be having such smart and skilled witches and wizards joining our ranks. They've worked very hard studying for their Auror examinations and will continue to do so for their training over the coming months. As is the usual way," he explained, "some of you will be partnered up with the new recruits and I expect you to treat each other with the utmost respect and loyalty, and not just in the field. I'll now hand you over to Gawain for a few more words."

Harry smiled around at the Auror-filled office once more before heading over to join Ron and friends. He perched himself on Ron's desk and folded his arms, listening to Robards.

"…sure you remember well you're first day here so I expect you all to…"

"Oi, Harry!" Ron whispered near his elbow. "Am I paired up with anyone?"

Harry rolled his eyes, barely containing his grin. Like Robards had just said, he did indeed remember his first day as a trainee Auror well. He remembered how nerve-wracking it had been to stand in front of a room full of qualified Aurors and introduce yourself, especially when you'd just finished saving the world and everyone knew a lot more about you than just your name already.

He also remembered how nervous he'd been when he'd been assigned his partner for the next six months. It hadn't taken him long to figure out how the process worked.

Aurors that worked in pairs had a responsibility to look out for their partner. But looking out for a partner that was still in training wasn't something that everyone wanted to do. There were few that took on the role gladly, who saw it as a challenge and a way to prove themselves as a mentor. But most just didn't want the hassle.

Harry's partner when he had joined had been an Auror named Kevin. Old and grouchy, yet highly skilled and surprisingly flexible, Harry had had to work very hard to gain his respect. They'd bickered and shouted and had never managed to agree on a single thing. Then one day, on what had started out as a routine arrest of a bunch of youths causing trouble on a muggle housing estate, they'd been ambushed by Death Eaters. Kevin had been hit with a jinx that had momentarily robbed him of any sense of direction, but then, from a dark corner, a killing curse had shot his way. Harry had rushed at Kevin and knocked him out of the way in time, the impact of landing on the hard ground bringing Kevin back to his senses just in time to shove Harry out of the way of a blasting curse heading towards him. It had hit Kevin instead, ripping his arm right out of its socket. In the few shocked seconds that had followed, Harry had heard someone jeering and he'd shot a stunning spell straight at the place where the voice had come from, knocking the wind right out of Rodolphus Lestrange, leaving him free, finally, to be arrested and brought to justice.

Harry smiled to himself and made a mental note to arrange dinner plans with Kevin, the still-grouchy, but now-retired, Auror.

"I did think about pairing Seamus Finnigan with you," Harry said quietly to Ron now, as Robards prattled on about there being _no 'I' in 'team'_, "but it would have been a pretty unfair advantage to the rest of the recruits if he was partnered with someone he already knew…"

"Good thinking," Ron said, looking quite relieved.

"…so I partnered you with Joe instead," he grinned. "He's the one with the all the facial piercings at the end there."

Samuel laughed and hit Ron on the back as he let out a hacking, choking cough.

"Are you quite alright, Auror Weasley?" Robards asked across the room, cutting his speech short.

"I'm - I'm f - fine," Ron coughed. He turned to glare at Harry and mouthed the words 'I hate you.' Harry laughed and got up to pair the recruits.

* * *

"So I hear Ron has a new partner at work," Ginny said cheerfully as she sat down across from Harry at the kitchen table, delicious chicken, gravy, and roast potatoes in front of them.

Harry swallowed his mouthful of wine. "His name is Joe, he has long green hair, listens to heavy mental, and has sixteen piercings, only nine of which you can actually see."

"Oh my…" Ginny giggled. "I can only imagine where those other seven are."

Harry grinned. "He scored the highest in all the Auror examinations and out of all the applications we had this year he had a very respectful looking CV. He studied in Japan for a number of years and has worked in magical security ever since leaving school. He has qualifications to rival even Hermione."

"Impressive. And you partnered him with Ron because…?"

"Because he hasn't had a partner at work since he started," he pointed out. "It'll be good for him. They could learn a lot from each other."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Ginny said, holding up her hands and laughing. "Anything that makes my brother uncomfortable is fine with me."

Harry grinned.

They spent the rest of the meal chatting about friends, updating each other on the latest news and gossip. After eating a wonderful sticky toffee pudding for dessert, Harry declared himself full and retired to the living room sofa in front of the TV. A muggle soap was playing, some scruffy-looking female characters having a screaming argument in a pub, so he switched over, flicking through the channels until he found one playing music. He dropped the remote on the sofa and stretched his legs out in front of him, closing his eyes and relishing the chance to relax after such a challenging day at work.

Out of the five Aurors he'd paired up with new recruits, only one of them had taken it without complaint. In a way, he understood their reluctance - they didn't want the added responsibility, they didn't want to be worrying about looking after someone else, they just wanted to get on with whatever they'd been assigned. But surely they remembered what it was like to be the new guy? To be _resented_ because you were the new guy or simply because of who you were? Harry knew that feeling all too well - the Dursleys had made sure of that for over half his life, and Snape hadn't exactly hidden his feelings on Harry's first day at Hogwarts.

Harry snorted. That bastard.

"What's so funny?" Ginny asked, sitting down at the other end of the sofa. She had a glass of red wine in one hand and a Quidditch magazine in the other.

"These music videos," he said, glancing back at the screen where a boy band was in the middle of a tricky piece of choreography.

"I know," Ginny sniggered. "The dance moves are so gay." She wriggled around a bit on the sofa and stretched her legs across Harry's lap. "Though I gotta say, the music is a hell of a lot better than what we have in our world. Makes me wanna go clubbing." She bobbed up and down where she sat, shrugging her shoulders to the music, and waggling her eyebrows at Harry.

Harry got the hint and sighed. "Not tonight," he said tiredly. "It's been a long day."

She rolled her eyes. "Spoil sport." She flicked open her magazine and Harry returned to the television, watching the smartly dressed men on the screen grinding with scantily clad women, moving their hips in time with the music.

He wondered if Severus had ever been clubbing, and for a couple of minutes he tried to imagine the picture the man would make, swapping his long robes for a shirt and a tight pair of jeans, throwing some moves on the dance floor.

Harry grinned at the image. He was sure Snape would curse him for even entertaining the idea, but it was far too amusing too ignore. He wondered vaguely what sort of clubs Snape would go to. Harry knew there were plenty of gay bars in London, though, of course, he'd never been in. He wondered if Snape had, back in his youth. Had he ever picked anyone up for the night? Taken them home and fucked them senseless?

"OK, here's something for you to do," Ginny said, and he looked up to see her reading from the magazine. "For a chance to win five hundred Galleons and two tickets to this season's Premier League match of your choice, just answer the following questions."

"I'm not eligible to win because I'm engaged to a Quidditch player," he pointed out dryly.

Ginny stuck her tongue out. "Just for fun," she said. "Question one; name the position played by new the captain of the Lawford Lions, Dominic Darwin."

"Easy. Beater."

"Two; name the manager that was involved in the controversial signing of former Appleby Arrows seeker, Malachy Taylor."

That one had been all over the news, Harry remembered.

"Trevor Knight."

"Question three, and I swear there'll be no sex for a week if you don't get this! Name the seven players that make up the all-girl team, the Holyhead Harpies." Ginny lowered the magazine and glared at him.

Harry smiled and looked thoughtful. "Let's see…there's Kat and Lanette," he said, ticking them off on his fingers. "There's Rhiannon, and then there's Gwenog, Zoe, and Tarren, and then there's the Seeker…Jenny? No, that's not it. Gina? No…"

"You're an arse, you know that?" she laughed, shoving at him with her foot.

"Oh, I remember now," he grinned, grabbing hold of her leg. He pushed it aside and crawled on top of her. "It's the gorgeous," - kiss to her neck - "lovely," - kiss to her cheek - "sexy," - kiss to her chin - "absolutely amazing…Ginny Weasley."

She laughed again, the sound making his stomach churn nervously, and he bent his head and brought their lips together in a slow kiss. She hummed softly and kissed him back, opening her mouth and tempting Harry's tongue in. She wrapped her arms around his neck and before Harry knew what was happening, she'd apparated them to the bedroom.

They landed heavily on the bed. Ginny moaned and arched her back, her hips rolling against him. Her arms fell away from his neck and he reached up and tugged her shirt off, kissing tanned skin as it was revealed, inch by inch, so soft beneath his lips.

He pulled away for a few seconds, just enough to divest himself of his own clothes, loving the way her eyes watched the movement of his trousers as they fell to the floor. He yanked his boxers down and pulled his shirt off before returning to Ginny.

He covered her body with his own, his weight resting on his arms as he sucked at her neck, as her lips pressed against his shoulder. He snaked a hand behind her back and she arched upwards, leaving him free to unclasp the bra and peel it away. He squeezed her breasts in his hands, first one and then the other, loving the weight of them in his palm, loving how her nipples hardened as he swept his thumb over them. He trailed his hands up her sides, taking hold of her arms and pinning them above her head. She arched up again, purring, pressing her naked breasts against his skin, trying to get as close to him as she could, hooking her legs over his waist, squeezing, undulating.

Crossing her arms above her head, he held them there with one hand as he kissed down her neck, down to her chest, and sucked on one of her nipples. He wanted to use teeth, he wanted to bite them and make her gasp, he wanted _his_ nipples to be played with, he wanted Snape to -

He growled and captured her mouth in his. Her lips were so warm and soft and they slid perfectly against his own. She kissed him back, not hot and desperate like Snape, but slowly and sweetly, leaving Harry in charge…

He tore his mouth away. He let go of her arms. He returned to her breasts, licking, sucking, nipping. His hands crept to her sides, holding her hips in place, as he moved lower down her writhing body, kissing her glowing skin, not pale, not scarred, not imperfect…

A hand on his head, stroking. He butted at it, wanting her to pull on his hair, wanting her to push his head further down, but all she did was weave her fingers through it, her moans getting louder.

He returned to her mouth, wanting focus, _needing_ something to consume him, and he kissed her hard and fast and he heard her breath hitch as she tried to keep up with this new pace, but she wasn't kissing him back hard enough, just making those noises that sounded so breathy, and she didn't even _try_ to take control like Snape would have done -

He ripped his mouth away from hers and turned away.

Fucking Snape. Fucking Snape trapped in his fucking thoughts.

"I can't…I can't, I…"

He trembled as he lay there, his forehead resting against her shoulder.

"Harry? Harry, what's wrong?"

Closing his eyes, he bit his lips and shook his head, trying to even his breathing out. He felt her hand stroke up his back and he rolled off her, to the side. Snape was still swimming around in his mind, all pale and forceful and everything that Harry wanted at that moment. He swung his legs up and sat on the side of the bed, his hands gripping the edge. He didn't want to be near her. He couldn't bear her touch.

"Harry? Harry, it's OK. Please." The bed dipped as she moved, and her hand fell softly on his shoulder. "Come here," she said quietly.

But he just shook his head again. Unable to look at her, he slid off the bed and away from her hand. He shrugged on his dressing gown as quickly as he could without seeming desperate to get away, and left the room.

He wanted to go to the kitchen, to grab a bottle of Ogden's finest, and forget this little scene had ever taken place, but the thought that she'd follow him made him head for the bathroom. He locked the door behind him.

_This is insane,_ he thought angrily, splashing his face with cold water and avoiding his reflection in the mirror. _This is so fucking insane._

He shouldn't be having an affair in the first place, he knew that. But comparing them, and in such an intimate way, somehow felt like the most sinful act he'd ever committed. It felt like he was violating them. He shouldn't be comparing them. But he couldn't help it. His mind refused to listen; it picked out things without his consent, things that should have been, and _were_, sentimental and personal.

_Snape wouldn't kiss me like that, he'd grab hold of my hair tightly and kiss me until I couldn't breath. Snape wouldn't kiss my shoulders delicately, he'd bite them and leave bruises._

How was it that people didn't go crazy from having affairs? Morals aside, how the hell did people cope?

Shutting off the cold water tap, he slid on to the floor, his back against the side of the bath, thinking.

He remembered the very first time he'd slept with Ginny. He'd been terrified.

It had been a year after the war had ended, the summer Ginny had finished school. She'd snuck out of The Burrow one night and had turned up on Harry's front door, at Grimmauld Place. In bed with her for the first time, Harry's whole body had trembled with nerves, his thighs an uncontrollable quivering mess. He'd wanted to make love to her more than anything and he'd been excited about losing his virginity, but that excitement had been coupled with great anxiety. More than anything else he remembered being embarrassed - embarrassed that his heart was beating so hard and fast, scared that Ginny would come too close and feel it thumping through his chest. He remembered well the sweaty, musky smells, the noises as he'd thrust in and out, the paranoia of being judged on looks and technique. The fact that Ginny had left him in charge and he hadn't really had a clue what to do, asides from the obvious. It really hadn't been a special moment - not what he'd expected at all, not after hearing people talk about how the first time was magical and one of the best experiences a person would have. If anything, it had been quite mortifying.

Now, of course, things were different. The smells and noises were still there, but he was used to it. It was all entirely normal, nothing to be embarrassed about. He no longer trembled with nerves and his heart didn't try to escape through his chest.

But things were different with Snape. With Snape, the smells and noises weren't just an expected part of it - they _added_ to it. When he was with Snape he _wanted_ to hear the sound of skin slapping against skin, he _wanted_ to smell the sweat coming from the other man, he _wanted_ the unmistakable smell of sex all around him. Because, somehow, it was much easier to enjoy those things with another bloke. With a girl, with Ginny, he sort of felt like he had to keep her clean. It probably sounded really sexist, but he wanted to keep her away from those smells and noises because they felt indecent. He wanted things to remain on her level, not his. With Snape he was free to let those inhibitions go.

Cursing how fucked up his life was, he got up off the floor and thought of some excuse to tell Ginny that would explain away his behaviour in the bedroom.

* * *

"Hey, mate, listen," said Ron, the moment Harry stepped through the door the following morning. "About green-haired Joe. Do I have-"

"Yes," Harry said firmly, hiding his sigh by taking a swig from his coffee cup.

"But he's weird," Ron complained.

"He's not weird," Harry said, collecting his files from Jeremy and strolling into his office. "He's just different from you and me."

"You, me, and everyone else who works here," he pointed out.

This time Harry couldn't hide his sigh. "Ron," he warned.

"He's invited me out for a drink on Friday."

"A date? How lovely. Make sure to wash your hair and wear your loveliest clothes."

"He said he wants to learn more about me and get used to the feel of my magic," he continued.

"It's nice to know that _some_ people are taking their jobs seriously and making an effort."

"Can't you come with me?" he begged. "Or arrange a night out with the other Aurors so we can all go together?

"I can't Ron," he said, swivelling his chair round and sitting down. "I'm at Snape's on Friday." _And I'm not cancelling for anything_, he thought to himself.

"Go on, just this once," Ron whined. "I don't think I can handle being around Joe for more than an hour. We have _nothing_ in common and I keep thinking I'll ask him about his other piercings just to break the silence!"

Harry laughed, but gave his friend an apologetic shrug. "I'm sorry Ron. Maybe next time? Besides," he added, taking another sip of coffee, "it'll do you good, getting to know your work partner. He's right in what he says about getting to know your magical signature, you know. Any bonding the two of you do can only help your work relationship."

"Bonding?" Ron scoffed and headed for the door. When he reached it, he turned back to Harry. "I don't care if you think you're doing me a favour," he said. "You owe me."

Harry laughed again at his friend and began to arrange the files on his desk. Glancing at them, he was extremely glad he hadn't been one of the Aurors on call last night; 43 reports of suspicious activity, 28 assaults, 19 burglaries, 15 complaints about neighbours, 11 muggle-related incidents, and 3 domestics.

Why couldn't everyone just get along?

Downing the rest of his coffee, he grabbed a red quill and began to make his way through the reports, underlining everything he wanted to hear more about and circling anything that was important to the individual case or familiar to another. It was a job that took all morning and, thankfully, with the trainee Aurors adding to the man-power in the offices and out in the field, he had enough time to himself to get it all done. Only when he'd finished did he allow his mind to wander.

Waking up next to Ginny had been very awkward that morning. Not knowing what was wrong with Harry, she'd convinced herself that he hadn't been able to 'get it up' because of all the stress at work. Obviously Harry much preferred her version of things than the actual reality; that he was so obsessed with Severus Snape that he couldn't enjoy being with anyone else.

Maybe Snape was like a drug, he thought miserably. Maybe he needed a fix. But a fix only lasted so long and Harry knew he needed more than that. A lot more.

He dropped his quill on his desk and rubbed at his forehead, the sharp beginnings of a headache starting to make themselves known. He really wished he could forget about Snape, because now all he could think about were _Snape's_ fingers tugging at his hair, and _Snape's_ nails digging into his skin. Snape's hard body pressing him into the mattress. The _smell_ of Snape, the _feel_ of Snape.

Yep. Snape was a drug, all right. And Harry was well and truly addicted.

Friday couldn't come quick enough.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for the wonderful reviews. I know it wasn't a quick update but hopefully it wasn't too long this time.

Please review. I hope you're enjoying it. x


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